


All the Way Back Where I Come From

by romanticalgirl



Category: Leverage
Genre: Animal Harm, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Murder, Dubious Consent, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Multi, Murder, Polyamory, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Soul Bond, child harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 04:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 70,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11283999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: Soul bonds happen. Most of the time, in the vastness of the world, it doesn't amount to anything. Sometimes it does. Sometimes you meet your soul mate.Sometimes you meet both of them.At the same time.





	All the Way Back Where I Come From

**Author's Note:**

> Such huge, grateful, amazing thanks to [maurheti](http://archiveofourown.org/users/maurheti/pseuds/maurheti) for all the help with brainstorming, betaing, and just being generally awesome. I couldn't have done this without you. All remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> (see end for additional content notes)

Eliot’s ten when the first mark appears. It’s a silver-gray spike under his left arm, high on his ribcage. He notices it when someone else does, one of the guys he’s working with in the field, all of them stripped to the waist in the smothering heat of a Kentucky summer.

He doesn’t think about it, and he doesn’t worry about it. He mostly forgets it’s there except sometimes when it’s the wrong side of late and he can’t sleep. He rubs his fingers over the flat surface, imagining he can feel the mark.

The second one comes about two years later, a small brown spiral curling into a circle shows up. This one is on Eliot’s shoulder right where it curves up from his arm. The marks and what they mean should make his plans to join the service more difficult, but they don’t. He knows leaving is the right thing to do. They don’t mean anything in the long run.

Having two marks isn’t unheard of, but having one is already rare enough. Two can mean several things – a friend or a lover or both. One or both could fade if the universe realizes it got it wrong. He doesn’t mention them to his family, doesn’t want to give them another bullet as ammunition to try to make him stay. He’s blessed by his mother’s definition, cursed by his own. But he refuses to live a quiet, easy life because somewhere there might be someone – someones – meant for him.

He lets his father believe that he has to leave because he needs to break free of the small world of his Kentucky town, that he doesn’t want to live his father’s life pretending there’s not a world out there because it’s too big, too much. It’s true, but it’s also more.

It’s pride and patriotism that Eliot feels in his bones. It’s the need to _do_ something, do the right thing. Maybe someday that will be minding the hardware store where everyone knows everything, sitting on the porch and batting mosquitoes while he drinks beer or whiskey, drinks what’s left of his life away. But here and now, he can’t be where the confederacy is still alive and well, where Jesus is only a means to an end, and Eliot’s another quarterback getting ready to relive his glory days like a Springsteen song.

So they fight and he disappoints them, and he leaves Kentucky in the dust kicked up by the bus taking him to boot camp.

**

Boot camp is brutal. He sees scars and exhaustion, determination and pain. Eliot wonders how many of them are running from something, how many are running to something. How many of them have marks on them somewhere that they don’t want anyone to see. If someone looks at him closely, he can pass the mark on his shoulder off as a birthmark, but they all seem to have taken some sort of silent vow not to look too closely.

He gets through boot then does a year of Special Forces training, and another two months of Ranger school. He doesn’t go home after, but he goes back to Kentucky, working with horses between assignments. His marks darken in the sunlight rather than fade. He ignores them and falls in love with Aimee, promises her he’ll stay, makes promises he knows he can’t keep no matter how much he wants to. He’s promised himself to his country and it doesn’t allow for mistresses.

Besides, Aimee doesn’t have a mark on her. Eliot’s completely sure they both enjoy his very thorough investigation of every inch of her body, but her skin is unblemished, perfect, and smooth. He knows she pretends not to see the ones that stain his skin, but they both know they’re there. She’s careful not to touch them, even when he’s dressed. His promises ring hollow, and even though he gives her a ring, wanting it to be real doesn’t make it that way.

When he gets his next assignment he leaves even before the horses are awake, and he knows he’s leaving for good. Aimee will hate him, which is probably for the best. Not what he wants, but what he knows is right.

Right is subjective though. Right shouldn’t involve covert missions into countries the US pretends it has nothing to do with, the bursts of fire, the meaty sound of slicing and stabbing into flesh. He finds himself acquiring things that aren’t his to take and taking them for reasons he’s not sure he’ll ever know. He respects the hell out of the men he works with, but to a one, none of them can name a real reason why they do what they do. It doesn’t take him long to realize it’s not patriotism. It’s money and power. It’s going into a country that barely exists so he can very carefully and very coldly put a bullet in the head of a man someone thinks _might_ be a threat.

They finish out what ends up being his last job short two of the men they went in with, both of them dragged out in body bags to be buried under lies. Eliot stands by the graves in full uniform, head bowed. He goes home, takes the uniform off for the last time, and leaves it all behind.

**

Fame, infamy, notoriety. Eliot’s not sure what it is that he has, but he gets hired by a team on a hunt for items that aren’t for sale on the open market. He finds them. He brings them back. He puts the money in the bank and the names of the men he killed along the way in the back of his mind. The next job is a smaller team, more money. The job after that is just him and a _lot_ more money. He puts a portion of each payday in a safe deposit box, bundled up in stacks, the bill wrappers covered in his small neat handwriting with the names of people whose lives he’d taken to finish the job.

Eliot has no illusions about what he is – hired muscle, hired gun. He’s a killer dressed up like a retrieval specialist. He’s got a lot of blood money in the bank, a lot of bodies in the ground beneath his feet. He’s the best at what he does, which is why he gets hired by a small group of businessmen to take out an up-and-coming threat. There’s no pretense, no job to masquerade it as anything but what it is. It’s a contract to kill.

Eliot does his research, always knows what he’s walking into, which is why, when he opens the door to the rooftop pool, he bypasses the array of beautiful women, strips off his t-shirt and drops it on the ground at the foot of the one occupied chair and dives beneath the surface.

He swims underwater, counting off the seconds before he comes up for air. He tilts his head back and rakes his fingers through his wet hair. All the women are gone and there are five guns aimed at Eliot.

It all goes to hell with Moreau. And everything falls into place.

“I take it you know who I am.”

“Oh yes.” Damien’s accented English is smooth as silk. “Your reputation precedes you. Please. Join me.” Eliot swims to the side of the pool, hoisting himself out. Damien watches him as he stands, watches the water sluice off Eliot’s body. He hands him a towel and then nods toward the bar. “Name your poison.”

“Poison’s not exactly my style.” Eliot follows Damien to the bar. “But I’ll have a beer.”

Damien stops and turns to look at Eliot, his brow quirked. “A beer?”

“Yeah.”

“We’re in a country renowned for its wine and spirits and you want a _beer_.”

Eliot leans on the bar, chest bare and the towel wrapped loosely around his waist. “That gonna be a problem?”

“It’s just so very...American of you.” Damien signals to the bartender who hurries over. “I’ll have your finest single malt whiskey and a beer. For my...friend.”

“That’s not something many people, if any, call me.”

“Really?” Damien leans in closer, his eyes holding Eliot’s. “Oh, Eliot Spencer. I think you and I are going to be very good friends.”

**

Eliot digs his heels into the mattress, his hips rising, back arching. Damien’s left hand is wrapped around the base of Eliot’s cock, his mouth coating the thick shaft. The fingers of his right hand are buried deep in Eliot’s ass, spreading him and opening him up. Eliot’s lip is sore from where his teeth are sunk in as he tries desperately not to make noise, even though his breath is loud through his nose and the thick whimpers stuck in his throat make it ache.

Damien pulls back and sucks hard at the head of Eliot’s cock. Eliot grunts roughly and Damien works a fourth finger in.

Eliot’s lips part and short, rough gasps cause his whole body to jerk and shudder. Eliot’s job is supposed to be taking Damien apart piece by piece, and instead he’s the one shattering.

Damien pulls off Eliot’s cock completely, letting the head rub and slide over his wet lips. Eliot groans at the sight, the sound catching as Damien pushes his fingers deeper, spreading them wide. He curves them so his fingertips brush and then press against Eliot’s prostate. His breath shudders and his whole body trembles. Damien laughs roughly as Eliot’s cock jerks and a string of pre-come trails from the head of his cock to the curve of Damien’s lower lip.

“Say it,” Damien tells him, voice like gravel. He spreads his fingers wider and brushes his thumb against the tight muscle spread and stretched by his hand. “Say it.”

“Fuck,” Eliot gasps, panting. “F-fuck me.”

Damien pulls his hand back, two fingers slipping free and two still inside Eliot. They catch the lube Damien pours, steady thrusts working it in. It’s not enough and Eliot’s almost desperate enough to beg.

“Turn over.”

Eliot moans as Damien’s fingers slip free, but he turns over to his hands and knees as quickly as he can manage. Damien rubs Eliot’s ass with the palms of his hands before easing his thumbs along the cleft, spreading the globes of flesh. Eliot arches his back again, his chest brushing the bed as he pushes his ass higher. Damien presses the blunt head of his cock to the tight ring of muscle and then with a long, deep push, Damien is buried inside him.

Eliot presses his face into the pillow, but Damien threads his fingers in Eliot’s hair, pulling his head back. “Let me hear you.”

Damien’s other hand rests on Eliot’s hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh around the curve of the bone. Eliot groan shudders up from deep inside him. Damien’s answering laugh is low and throaty as his hips snap forward before rolling back, rhythm hard and relentless.

Eliot wants to touch himself, wants to relieve the desperate ache in his cock, but Damien’s pace and strength keep Eliot’s hands digging into the bedspread to keep himself on his hands and knees.

“Perfect,” Damien growls low and Eliot clenches around him. Damien laughs again as Eliot pushes back, turning longer strokes into something hard and fast. Damien leans forward, his chest against Eliot’s back. He tightens his grip in Eliot’s hair. “You should only show your throat to the man who’s going to be your master.”

“Who...fuck.” Eliot gasps the words. “Who says I’m not?”

“Is this all it takes to buy the great Eliot Spencer?”

Eliot tightens around Damien enough that he stills. “What do you think?”

This laugh is the first honest thing Eliot’s heard in a long time. Damien releases Eliot’s hair and eases off his back, both hands on Eliot’s hips now. “I think you and I are going to be formidable.”

Eliot holds him for another moment and then relaxes. Damien starts moving again, slower this time, but he seems to push deeper, driving into Eliot steadily. Eliot can finally grab his cock, holding it and forcing himself to let his dick slide in and out of his fist to Damien’s rhythm. He lets his head fall forward and he breathes roughly as he watches his red, slick cock move in his hand, watches the shadow of Damien’s thighs tense, tighten.

Eliot’s not sure when either of them comes, just that they keep moving until it’s too much, both of them shivering from over-stimulation. Damien pulls out with a whimpered groan then falls onto his back on the bed as Eliot slumps forward. “If you plan to kill me,” Damien’s voice is breathy, like he can’t quite get enough air, “at least wait until I can pretend I have the strength to defend myself.”

Eliot turns his head and finds himself looking Damien in the eye. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

Damien lifts his hand and brushes the back of two fingers against Eliot’s overheated cheek. “Will you kill for me?”

Eliot doesn’t say anything, but he closes his eyes, which he’s pretty sure is answer enough.

**

Damien attracts power. He’s a magnet that draws every backdoor dealer to him, trading weapons and lives, dealing them out like he’s behind the tables in Las Vegas. None of them seem to realize it’s a sleight of hand, that the house always wins. That it’s Eliot’s job to ensure it. Damien makes sure he has the best of everything he needs in return for the best of everything he’s got.

He teaches Eliot a different type of tactics, strategy, and thinking three steps ahead. He thinks better, quicker. He anticipates his opponent’s moves, reads the motions they telegraph. He knows how to determine what kind of resistance he’s up against, and where the exits are, what his own escape route is before he even goes into a situation. Damien talks with him and helps him develops instincts – not just of what he would do, but what _they_ would do when he came for them, what they would protect.

He calls Eliot his perfect killer.

And he is.

**

“Who are they?”

Eliot glances up from where he’s sprawled naked on his back. He’s still damp from his shower, his clothes from the job already whisked away for cleaning. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“I have no doubts about that.” Damien walks along the side of the bed then sits down. He reaches out and his fingers barely touch the silver mark on Eliot’s side.

Eliot moves without thinking, his hand tight on Damien’s wrist, keeping him from touching Eliot’s skin. “Don’t.”

“I’ve never seen anyone with them before.” Damien keeps talking as if Eliot hadn’t moved or said anything. “None of my lovers or my family have had them. I thought they were a myth. And you have two.” His eyes cut to the mark on Eliot’s shoulder, but otherwise he doesn’t move. “Who are they?”

“Like you said. A myth.”

“I don’t think you believe that. I think it bothers you that they exist.”

“How many people are there in the world? Even if they exist, they’re needles in a haystack, and I left the farm back in Kentucky.”

Damien turns his hand, and Eliot releases his wrist slowly, his eyes holding Damien’s. Damien lifts both hands in a gesture of surrender. “I could find them for you.”

“Why would I have you do that?”

“So you could do what you do best.” Damien shrugs.

“No.” Eliot rolls away from Damien and gets to his feet. He ignores him as he gets dressed. His stomach is tight. Damien's offer – threat? – like a hard knot in his chest, making it hard to breathe. “Nobody is finding them. Nobody is doing anything to them. As far as I’m concerned they don’t exist.”

Damien stands and walks toward Eliot, his expression both proprietary and predatory. “I would like to find them. Destroy them.” He touches the mark on Eliot’s shoulder, pressing down and moving the skin back and forth over the bone, watching Eliot closely for a reaction. “Remind the universe in no uncertain terms that you belong to me.” He trails the fingers of his free hand down Eliot’s sternum, his stomach, to the open fly of the jeans Eliot has tugged on. He flicks Eliot’s navel with a finger. “I don’t recall telling you to get dressed.”

“I don’t recall you telling me not to.”

Damien laughs, his eyes dark. He shoves Eliot back onto the bed, aggressive and rough. “You can’t play hard to get when I already own you.”

**

Cleaning his weapons is a nightly ritual for Eliot, even if he hasn’t used them. He lays five guns in front of him and dismantles them one at a time. As he goes through the process, his mind runs through a litany of names, the people each one has killed. Every name is like a bead on a rosary, a Hail Mary he knows won’t be enough, even if he believed. He finishes the guns then starts on the blades. Fewer names, closer kills. The literal blood on his hands.

Damien stands in the doorway and watches him most nights, silent after the first time. He’d spoken then, and there’s still a notch in the wall where Eliot’s knife had embedded itself, centimeters from Damien’s face.

He’d been silent after that, though when Eliot was finished, Damien had walked over and backhanded Eliot across the face. The next day, Damien had told Eliot to go to the stables, and he’d stood by as he told Eliot to put a bullet in one of the horse’s brains. Eliot had looked at Damien as he did it, and neither of them flinched.

“Prayer or flagellation.” Damien’s voice is smooth and rich, addictive. “Either way, it doesn’t suit you, my friend.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion.” Eliot carefully puts his weapons away, guns in their holsters, knives in their sheaths.

“We’re going to Prague.”

“Right now?”

“The plane leaves in an hour. We have a few things to attend to.”

“Things that need my expertise, or yours?” Different things requires different weapons. Being Damien’s bodyguard is much different than being Damien’s angel of vengeance.

“A bit of both kinds of persuasion, I think.”

“I’ll get my things together.”

Damien nods as Eliot straps a holster around his ankle. “I fear these gentlemen may requires a great deal of convincing.”

Eliot looks up and raises an eyebrow. “You don’t fear anything.” He stands up and puts on the shoulder holster and straightens it before fitting a knife on his belt and another in the leather strap on his forearm, unrolling his shirt to cover it. “Am I gonna need to change for this?”

Damien’s gaze moves down Eliot’s body, taking in the white dress shirt, black slacks, and Italian leather shoes. The top three buttons of the shirt are undone and one of the sleeves is still rolled up to Eliot’s elbow. “You should.” Damien licks his lips and smiles. “But you won’t. It’s a bit of a flight. You’ll be far more disheveled when I get through with you.”

**

“Cut them out.”

Eliot looks down at Damien in confusion. Sweat is cooling on his skin and his thighs tighten reflexively against Damien’s. Eliot feels his erection ebb slightly, but Damien’s cock stays hard inside him. “What?”

Damien reaches up and touches the mark on Eliot’s shoulders. Eliot shivers, the heat of riding Damien pushed away at the touch. “Cut them out.”

“They’ll just reappear.” Eliot had researched after each one and throughout his life, trying to find a way to get rid of them. He’d seen the videos of people locked in asylums, their skin shredded from continued attempts to rid themselves of their markings. “They don’t go away. Unless you plan on killing me to get rid of them.”

“I want them out of your life, not you out of mine.” Damien drops his hands to Eliot’s thighs and rubs them. Eliot’s muscles flex under the touch, and Damien laughs softly. “Give me your knife, Eliot.”

Eliot stops himself from saying anything, not wanting to give Damien any further fuel for his decided course of action. The knife is going in his skin. The only thing Eliot can control is how deep it cuts. He leans forward and takes the knife from his nightstand drawer. As he settles back and Damien’s cock slides deep again, Eliot can feel how turned on Damien is, how much he wants this.

“Lift your arms.”

Eliot does as he’s told, raising his arms up, feeling his skin pull taut around his rib cage. He stares straight ahead, waiting for the bite of the blade. Instead he feels Damien’s hand wrap around his cock, stroking him and squeezing him until Eliot’s body responds to the touch, the friction, the slow roll of Damien’s thrusts as he rocks up inside Eliot. Damien excels in everything he does so it doesn’t take long for Eliot’s back to arch, his head to fall forward.

“Hands together.” They both know that Eliot could break Damien, which is why it turns Damien on so much to make Eliot be still, to do what Damien wants with nothing more than a word. Eliot grips his wrists and looks down at Damien. “How deep do they go, I wonder. Just the surface? Or are they a tattoo embedded through every layer of skin?”

Eliot’s silent. This isn’t a conversation.

“I’m surprised you haven’t done this yourself, to be honest. Or were you hoping someone would kill you before now? Before they could find you?”

“I’ve had plenty of chances to get dead. None of them have stuck yet.”

“I wonder who could take down the great Eliot Spencer.” He runs the tip of the knife down the trail of dark hair that leads to Eliot’s cock. Eliot doesn’t move, barely breathes. Damien keeps the knife moving along Eliot’s shaft, stopping at the ridge of the head. “I could. Right now. Would you even defend yourself?”

Damien turns the blade so the sharp edge is against Eliot’s skin, one move, one twitch, enough to make it slice into him.

“I don’t think you would,” Damien continues. “You’re too loyal. Too controlled.”

He looks up at Eliot then moves the knife away. He reaches over his head and lets it clatter on the nightstand. Eliot glances away from Damien, watching the knife, giving Damien a chance to grab him and roll him onto his back.

He starts thrusting, pushing hard into Eliot. His hands wrap around Eliot’s forearms, just below where Eliot is still holding his own wrists. He uses Eliot as support as he fucks him, every hard thrust punctuated with a sharp bite to the mark on Eliot’s shoulder, as if Damien intends to rip it free of Eliot’s flesh.

Damien comes, his teeth sunk into Eliot’s skin. Eliot is hard between them, his brain locking the pain away as if he’s in a fight he has to get through before he’s allowed to feel anything. Damien keeps moving – as greedy as he is, he’s never left Eliot to suffer – putting steady pressure against Eliot’s cock as they slide against one another.

Damien releases his teeth and tongues the bite marks, relief and pleasure flooding through Eliot, layering over the pain. Damien nuzzles his way to the hollow beneath Eliot’s ear, his breath hot. “Come for me, Eliot.” He shifts up so there’s enough room between them that he can work his hand in to wrap around Eliot’s cock and stroke him. “Make a mess of yourself for me.”

Damien’s words are an order wrapped in a seduction, and Eliot closes his eyes, losing himself in the feel of Damien’s hand, the relief that the knife hadn’t cut. He waits until he’s on the very edge before opening his eyes to Damien’s hungry smile.

“Come for me, Eliot.”

He shudders beneath Damien, obeying orders the way a good soldier does. Damien squeezes Eliot’s cock, milking it through his orgasm, letting go just before it’s too much.

Damien eases away, wiping his hand on Eliot’s thigh as he pulls out of him. The emptiness and the ache hit Eliot at the same time, and a shaft of something hot and cold races down Eliot’s spine.

Damien moves away and slips into the silk pajamas and robe he’d been wearing when he came into Eliot’s bedroom. His eyes are on Eliot, looking as if he can see past the surfaces. He reaches down and brushes Eliot’s hair off his face. “My office at nine. We’ll go over the plans for Friday night.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I know.” He leans close, brushing his lips across Eliot’s. When he pulls back, Eliot’s knife is in his hand again. He drops it beside Eliot on the bed. “Next time, perhaps.”

**

Damien doesn’t bring it up again, though every time they’re together, he strokes Eliot’s marks. When he leaves, Eliot showers, not realizing at first that he spends extra time on them, as if washing away Damien’s touch.

It becomes a ritual, and they become a talisman. He touches both marks himself before a job, especially as they get more violent, bloodier. Religious fervor seems to fuel the actions of Damien’s new targets, his new associates, his new enemies.

Eliot’s a unit leader, mapping out strategy for Damien’s security forces. Damien sends him in to send specific messages, but Eliot finds himself more often in the back rooms and boardrooms with Damien when the deals are made. Eliot makes a very convincing argument. Given his reputation, Eliot _is_ a very convincing argument.

Damien lets anyone who opposes him choose the weapon of their destruction, then he unleashes Eliot with orders of his own. He’s partial to persuasion, but, if that doesn’t work, Damien likes Eliot to use his hands. He’ll reach out and put his hand on Eliot’s shoulder. It’s a signal for Eliot to tilt his head and pop his neck before he snaps someone else's.

As far as persuasion goes, it’s effective.

Eliot gives up guns because they’re easy and an unfair advantage. He doesn’t need them, doesn’t like relying on them. Guns make men sloppy. Anyone can use a gun. He gets shot twice by scared men, and he leaves them both unconscious but alive. Damien says leaving them alive is a much stronger display of power.

Unless he wants them dead.

Those people end up dead.

**

It’s been almost five years when it happens. Damien’s kept Eliot in the dark regarding a special situation he was working on, and suddenly they’re engaged in a holy war. Eliot’s brought in without knowing what is going on, only that it’s personal as well as business, which is a painful and deadly combination.

He doesn’t ask for details when it’s clear that Damien has no intention of providing any. He’s given the bare bones to work with, dragged with two other men to a pier, told to stand watch outside the warehouse. Damien walks inside, and Eliot can feel the tension lacing up his spine. He stands outside the door and listens careful to the tone of Damien’s voice on the other side.

Eliot’s already in the room by the time the sound of the first shot dies, and he grabs Damien’s arm so he can get in front of him. Damien lowers the gun and looks as cool as ice, staring at the two bodies on the floor. Damien hires people to kill for him, so Eliot’s not quite sure what to make of any of it.

“Take her.”

Eliot’s eyes dart over to the corner of the room, and he’s furious with himself for not noticing the woman standing in the corner. She looks young in the dim light, barely more than a teenager. As she steps closer, he can see the swell of her stomach and her hand rests on it like she can protect the baby inside that way. She’s staring at Damien, and Eliot can’t read her expression at all.

“Spencer,” Damien snaps. “Take her.”

Eliot immediately goes to her side and takes hold of her arm under her elbow. He guides her out of the room in Damien’s wake. He helps her into the car, all of them silent until they reach the house. Damien steps out and doesn’t look back.

“Put her on the third floor in the suite. I want you with her constantly, Eliot. For the next several months at least. Only my best for her.”

Eliot’s not sure what “best” Damien means, but he does as he’s told. They go up to the third floor and he estimates she’s probably five to six months along, but the pregnancy weighs heavily on her slight frame. She doesn’t say a word, but when they reach the third floor, her eyes cut down the hall to Damien’s bedroom. The look on her face makes it clear she’s been here before. Been _there_ before.

“He killed my father and my brother tonight.” Her voice carries the same accent as Damien’s, though it’s thicker and less refined. Eliot assumes she’s talking to him. “You are his guard dog. Meant to keep me from killing his son in return.” She looks at Eliot, and he’s fairly sure she doesn’t actually see him. “The thing about guard dogs.” This time her eyes focus. “They die like dogs.”

**

Eliot watches her around the clock except when Damien himself relieves him. Eliot goes to his room and sleeps, most of it filled with dreams he doesn’t remember. One day he gives up after tossing and turning and goes back to the suite early. Damien is walking out of her room and he smirks at Eliot. “Spencer.”

Eliot looks over Damien’s shoulder to see her clutching the covers to her chest and crying.

Damien catches Eliot’s chin in his hand. “Do you miss me, Eliot?” Once Eliot is focused on him, he drops his hand, running a finger along Eliot’s shoulder, stopping just above the mark. “Next time I’ll have you join us.” He smiles, then walks away, shutting the door to the suite. Eliot doesn’t move, suddenly unsure of how to make his body work again.

“Not just his dog. His bitch.”

Eliot jerks his gaze to her. “He hurts you.”

“No. He’s a very gentle rapist.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” That’s probably not true. He probably did know if he’d allowed himself to think about it. He knows the kind of man Damien is.

She stares at him for a long time then gets off the bed. She’s naked as she walks toward Eliot, and she stops directly in front of him. He never looks away from her face. “I think I believe you.”

“Because I didn’t look?”

“No.” She turns and walks back to the bed, grabbing a robe lying across the chair by the bed. “Because you do look, but this time you didn’t.”

“I only look when the person wants me to see.”

“Your name is Eliot?” He nods and she does the same. “You may call me Serena. It is a bastardization of my name, and you work for a bastard. It fits, no?”

“Yeah.”

“I am going to shower. Then we’ll eat. Then I might actually talk to you, Eliot. I’m getting bored with my own company.”

**

She tells Eliot she’s 21. She’s beautiful, funny, and she’s his job. He has to remind himself of that, because he’s almost halfway in love with her by the end of the next week. She makes him leave when Damien comes, the coldness in her voice a sharp contrast to how she usually talks to him.

When he returns back to the suite after that, she’s already showered. Damien always tells Eliot that he’ll join them next time, and Eliot’s immensely grateful that Damien hasn’t required it yet for multiple reasons, not the least of which is the fact that he’d rather kill Damien than watch or participate. The thought of killing Damien has been on his mind far more than it should be of late.

“I do not want anyone to kill for me,” Serena tells him as she sits next to him on the settee. Her hands settle on her stomach, and Eliot watches them caress the swell. “Most especially not you.”

“Killing is my job.”

“It’s been a month and a half and I have not seen you kill anyone or anything.”

“Doesn’t change what I am.”

“I am a pregnant captive, but does that make me who I am?”

“Don’t. We both know that’s different.”

She moves one of her hands from her stomach to Eliot’s thigh and squeezes lightly. “You’re a good man.”

“No.”

“A good man who has done bad things, yes. But a good man.” She squeezes again. “Do you deal with the devil because it is what you want? Or because it is what you think you deserve?”

“Maybe I am the devil.”

She shakes her head sharply. “I have met the devil. You are not him.”

**

“Eliot?”

Her voice is low and soft and scared. Eliot moves into the bedroom, searching the shadows before he moves to the bed. He sits on the edge of the mattress. “I’m right here.”

She takes the hand he offers and places it on her stomach. He’s watched her react to the baby’s movements, but never felt them, never dared. He lays his hand flat against her, his fingers spread and feels the small pressure push back.

“Wow.”

She takes his hand and lifts it, pulling up her nightgown before setting his palm back against her bare skin. Eliot shakes his head, but can’t seem to move his hand.

“I can’t. We can’t.”

“I can.” She sits up slowly, supporting herself with her hands. She moves carefully, doing her best to keep Eliot’s hand from falling away. “I want to.”

“You don’t. You shouldn’t.”

“I do. I know.” She laughs softly. “It’s not Stockholm Syndrome. It’s you.”

“You’d say that if it were.”

“Would you hurt me, Eliot? If I tried to escape?” He feels the knife suddenly pressed against his ribs. He knows it’s one of his by the distinctive feel. “Would you stop me?”

Heat fills him and he thinks it should be the shame of failing Damien, but it’s not. “No.”

“That is how I know.” The threat of the knife disappears and she reaches out to touch Eliot’s face, to turn it so she can kiss him. It’s a barely there pressure before she brushes the seam of his lips with her tongue. Every instinct Eliot has is screaming at him, but he ignores them all and lets her deepen the kiss, lets her taste and explore his mouth.

She moves and straddles him, stripping his shirt off of him easily. Her mouth moves over his skin, tasting his throat as his head falls back. She licks and sucks, leaving a wet trail of heat. “S-serena.” He catches her shoulders and moves her back out of her arm’s reach. “We can’t. After. Maybe. But now...”

“I’m his?” She practically spits the words at him. “I don’t belong to him. Even this baby, when it is born, will be mine. Not his. I’m not asking you to help me escape or to let me escape. I’m asking just that you...you be the man I know you are. To touch me. To be gentle with me. To love me. To let me know that. At least once.”

“Love...”

“You bare the mark of a soul mate. That doesn’t mean you can’t love. She shakes her head. “You love me, yes?”

Eliot has never confused love and loyalty in his entire life. They’re two separate entities, worlds apart. Loyalty to his country, to his job, to Damien always wins.

He doesn’t say anything to her. He simply nods and pulls her back in, leaving loyalty behind.

**

She goes into labor three weeks later. She’s lying in bed, listening as Eliot tells her a ridiculous, made-up story, trying to distract her from the contractions that keep coming, wracking her body. Damien knows, assuming Chapman passed Eliot’s message to him. Damien calls an hour later to let Eliot know he’s on his way. He ignores Eliot’s question about the doctor, and Eliot tells him the most he knows about labor comes from watching a foal be born. Damien tells him that’s close enough and hangs up without another word.

Serena laughs at him and suggests he start pacing the floor like an expectant father. She laughs even more at the look he gives her, the sound of it warped with another contraction. “You should know by now you don’t scare me in the slightest.”

“He should.” Damien lets himself into the room, Chapman on his heels. “But perhaps he’s lured you into complacency with his rustic Southern charm. Despite his size, our Eliot has a way of putting people at ease. A most helpful skill. A dangerous one.” Damien walks over to Eliot, his fingers grazing the small of Eliot’s back.

Chapman’s smirk angles into a frown when Damien touches Eliot. His eyes narrow, and it’s clear that, Chapman had assumed things had changed between Eliot and Damien when Eliot had been put in charge of Serena. Changes that obviously aren’t true.

Serena reaches out and grabs Eliot’s hand as another contraction hits her. Eliot holds on, letting her squeeze through the pain.

“How close?” Damien asks.

“Every thirty to sixty seconds now.”

“Chapman. Check her.”

Chapman’s grin widens and he pulls the covers off Serena, then pushes her legs apart. Damien’s hand lands on the back of Eliot’s neck, fingers digging in as a very obvious warning. Serena closes her legs and, when Chapman tries to force them apart again, she shoves the heel of her foot hard into his nose. Blood splatters everywhere and Damien sighs.

“Miles. Go clean yourself up.”

Chapman glares at Eliot over the hand he has cupped over his nose. He points at Serena. “You’ll regret that.”

“Ne-” She cuts off as another contraction hits. She struggles to breathe through it, then looks up at Eliot. “He’s coming.”

“Damien. We need a doctor.”

“You’ll do.” Damien pushes Eliot toward the end of the bed. Eliot turns to protest, but Damien presses the muzzle of a gun to the center of Eliot’s forehead and releases the safety. “You’ll. Do.”

Eliot nods and goes to the end of the bed, easing Serena closer to the edge so her legs can spread, one of them resting on his shoulder. He tries to remember everything Willie showed him when they’d helped with foaling, to remember other times when he’s seen births in the middle of bringing death.

His mind clears like it does in a fight, instinct taking over. The baby crowns and Serena pushes while Damien looks on smiling, a benevolent god.

Eliot eases the baby out, cleaning away everything that comes with it with the edge of the ruined sheet. Damien takes the baby from Eliot, cord still attached, and looks it over from head to toe. “It’s a girl.”

“No.” Serena shivers at the words and struggles to sit up. “The doctor said it was a boy. It’s a boy.”

“A girl.” Damien turns the baby so she can see it. “Eliot. Come here.”

Eliot eases Serena’s leg off his shoulder and stands. He takes the baby from Damien and curls it in the curve of his arm. Damien looks at the baby and then at Eliot. “Kill it.”

“Damien!”

“No!” Serena gasps. “No!”

“Do it.” Damien looks at Eliot with dark, magnetic eyes. “Do it or I kill her.” The gun he’d had earlier is back in his hand, this time pointed at Serena. Her eyes open wider, tears running down her cheeks.

“No. Eliot. No. Don’t. Please.”

“Eliot.” Eliot looks from Serena to Damien. “You are what you are. I made you. We made each other. What did she promise you? Love? Love. Did she tell you how she ended up here? How she came to me and begged me to bed her? How she was desperate to merge her family’s power with me? That she swore she would bear me a son if I wed her? Don’t think that she came to my bed unwillingly. She was never that.”

The baby is crying, but Eliot can barely hear the sound. He looks back at Serena, shaking his head.

“Did you tell him your name, darling?”

Tears fall faster down her cheeks. “Serena.” She barely whispers the word, the sound caught on a sob as she reaches for the baby. “Serena Moreau.”

“Kill it!” Damien snaps, his voice like a shot.

He moves without thinking. It barely makes a noise, yet it sounds like everything Eliot dared let himself believe shattering. Damien takes the lifeless body in one hand and drops it to the bed. He gestures to Serena.

“Now her.”

Serena sits up and grabs the baby, pulling it into her arms. She cradles it against her chest as sobs wrack her body, every breath heaving from deep in her chest. “No.”

Eliot takes the gun from Damien’s hand and stares at it. For a moment he wishes that everything he is and does was part of some grand suicidal tendency so he could point the gun at himself. Instead he stares at Damien and presses it to Serena’s temple.

“Do it.”

This time the command is like the hiss of a snake, words like ice in Eliot’s ear. He releases the safety and closes his eyes. The sound fills the room and Eliot’s ears ring. Ozone fills the air, choking him. Damien takes the gun from Eliot’s hand and smiles.

“Clean up and come to my room.” Damien claps his hand on Eliot’s shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

**

He leaves his weapons. He leaves everything but the clothes he came with and the knife he carried in the Army. He walks away from the house, drives away from the garage. He dumps the car and steals another, working his way toward the ocean. He steals food and a new shirt when the old one tears on a tree he climbs in an effort to find a safe place to sleep.

He gets on a boat and works his way back to the States. He finds Vance and uses his connections to find work. He builds a new reputation based on his skills, completely separate from Damien. He recovers things with maximum violence and no death toll. He’s the best at what he does, and he refuses to hide.

In a lot of ways, he hopes Damien will come looking for him. And then he gets hired for a job that will set him up for life. He thinks this is it. One last job.

Then everything changes.

**

He realizes it’s Parker on their first job back from Kentucky. She’s standing on the roof talking to him about their next step when he looks down to see the coil of rope at her feet.

Heat flares through him, pulsing in his shoulder, and he can see the rapid rabbit-like beat of her pulse hammering in her throat. Eliot shakes his head once and points at her. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Whose definition?”

He doesn’t answer, but he hears the whoop of glee when she goes over the edge. He ducks back into the building to take care of the security team that Hardison is sending his way, needing this con finished as soon as possible. He stays as far from her as possible for the rest of the con, letting the rest of the team handle her crazy. He can get through this job then get the hell out of there. He’s almost twice her age, and he’s got more blood on his hands than the rest of them put together.

He’s the only one with blood on his hands.

“Eliot?”

He closes his eyes and exhales slowly at the sound of her voice coming from his bedroom window. “Go away, Parker.”

“No. I don’t think I can.”

“You can.”

She moves behind him, telegraphing every step. She comes around him and pushes his duffel bag out of the way with her feet. Her fingers touch his shoulder and the blazing, blinding heat is back. It takes everything he has not to make a sound, not to fall to his knees.

His voice is strained. “Parker.”

“Archie told me it was a fairy tale.”

He doesn’t know or care who Archie is. “He’s right. It is.” He reaches up to remove her hand, and it’s like a shock to the system, a thousand volts of _Parker_. She makes a soft noise, and Eliot grinds his teeth together. “Go home, Parker.”

“You are home.”

Eliot manages to move her hand off of him, to let her go. “It’s not real.”

She ignores him, reaching out to unbutton his flannel shirt. He knows he should stop her. He knows he should shove her away, throw her across the room, break her in half. Instead he does nothing, letting her push his shirt off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, and she stands on her tiptoes to press cool lips against the dark mark, the piled coil of rope that is her on his skin.

The voice in his head telling him to stop can’t compete with whatever the other voice or compulsion is that makes him slip his hand under Parker’s shirt and pull it up over her head. Her black tank top is a stark contrast to his white one, and her shoulder bears a mark exactly where his does, a fist that moves with her skin, becoming an open palm.

Eliot’s hand shakes as he touches it, as everything lights up inside him. Parker trembles, shaking her head and whimpering when he starts to pull away.

“Parker.” His voice breaks and she looks up at him, all eyes, a reflection of himself he doesn’t recognize. “No.”

She nods and puts her hand over his, keeping his touch against her. It generates heat, they generate it together. “What do we do now?”

“I get the hell out of town.”

“You can’t.”

“I have to.”

She puts his other arm over his shoulder and around his neck, using him for support as she wraps her legs around him, burying her face against his throat, breathing him in.

“Parker.” She shakes her head and holds on tighter. Eliot sighs and puts his arms beneath her for support and walks into his living room. He sits on the couch and, he’s not quite sure how, but suddenly she’s curled in his lap. Her hair covers the mark on his shoulder, leaving hers exposed. His fingers ache to touch it again.

“Please,” she whispers. He brushes his fingers over it and she exhales, the movement of her body changing with the mark. “Sometimes it stays. It was just a fist for a really long time.” She sounds drugged. He feels drugged. “Eliot?”

“Yeah, Parker?” He doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“I was scared for a long time. Because of it. But I’m not now.”

“No?”

“No.” He can tell she’s falling asleep as her voice drifts. “Because it’s you.”

**

He wakes up with Parker in his arms. Her head is still on his shoulder, her hand over his heart. It’s the best night’s sleep that Eliot can remember having. She’s light in his arms as he shifts her onto the couch. He goes to the kitchen and scrambles eggs and makes toast. She comes in as he sets a freshly buttered piece on her plate.

She sits down at the kitchen island and eats, not talking. She only pauses now and then to drink gulps of orange juice. He leans against the counter across from her and eats as well, at a much slower pace, even though he feels famished, like everything’s been taken out of him.  
She sets her fork on her plate and pushes it aside, wiping crumbs from the corners of her mouth.

“More?” Eliot asks. She shakes her head and suddenly she’s on the island, pushing his plate out of the way and crawling to him. She kisses the mark and Eliot grabs the edge of the counter and takes a shaky breath. “You’ve really got to stop that.”

“But it makes me feel good,” she murmurs against his skin. “Doesn’t it make you feel good?”

“That’s not the point.” He groans softly as she sucks at his skin, her hand on his other shoulder for support. “Stop. God. Christ, Parker. You’ve got to...” He groans again and drops his head to the side, unable to stop himself. He leans in and traces her mark with his tongue. She shivers all over and Eliot pulls her closer. She moves in a way Eliot’s sure only Parker can, and then she’s sitting on the counter’s edge, legs on either side of him.

Eliot works Parker’s tank top off, groaning when he has to pull away from her, from the mark. As soon as the shirt is off, he finds her skin again, licking and sucking his way from the mark down to one of her breasts. He takes one of her already hard nipples into his mouth.

Parker’s body arches, her head falling back. Eliot keeps one arm around her waist, the other hand cupping the back of her head, fingers buried in the silk of her hair. Her legs wrap around him, and her heels dig into the small of his back, the top swell of his ass. She whimpers as he catches the nipple back between his teeth, moving them back and forth as his tongue flicker across the flat tip.

She presses closer, skin hot as she removes her hands from the back of his neck to fist in his tank and pull it up. He breaks away for her to pull it off of him, using the opportunity to move to her other breast.

Her hands go to Eliot’s hair, tugging at it roughly. He moans against her skin and lifts her up off the table and carries her down the hall to his bedroom. She grinds against him, heat pressed against his bare stomach.

“Jesus,” he breathes against her skin, swollen from his mouth. He guides her down onto his bed, kneeling between her spread legs. He kisses the hollow between her breasts as he braces himself over her, letting his other hand trail down, his fingers slipping beneath the waistband. Her hips arch up as he works his fingers down further between her legs, pushing aside the fabric of her panties.

He uses his fingers to draw a lazy circle around her clit. Parker’s fingers dig into his shoulder blades. “Y-yeah. Yes. E-Eliot.”

“So wet,” he breathes, pressing his thumb against her clit as he slides two fingers easily inside her. Parker gasps and clenches around him, her pulse beating wildly against his lips as he presses his mouth to the smooth skin by her thigh. She releases him and wriggles her pants and underwear down. Eliot eases his fingers out of her so she can strip, despite the protest she makes, the sound raw in her throat.

“Can’t get you naked otherwise,” he reminds her, his own voice rough. As soon as she’s free of her clothes, he pushes his fingers inside her again.

Parker sucks in a series of breaths before she manages to exhale, her body tight around his thrusts. The rough pads of his fingertips rub against sensitive skin, and every time he pushes in, Parker utters a choked little cry.

“Don’t... Don’t stop,” she gasps, breathing his name. “Please. Please.”

“No plans to.” He kisses her stomach, tracing her navel with his tongue before dipping it inside. She shivers beneath him, the motion more pronounced as his lips brush the soft mound of blond hair just before his tongue darts out and teases between her labia.

Parker’s hands find his hair again, her nails digging into his scalp as his fingers keep moving inside her, as his tongue flickers against her clit. She pulls hard, and Eliot grinds down against the mattress for friction as he fights for control.

He sucks and licks at the hard nub, and Parker’s soft cries come faster and faster. He slides a third finger inside and feels her tighten, feels the hot rush as she comes. He slips his fingers out and moves them to her clit, sliding his tongue inside her to taste the warm thickness of her orgasm.

Parker’s nails rake Eliot’s scalp, and her heels dig into his back as her body arches higher. Eliot thrusts his tongue deeper, licking inside her while his fingers apply constant pressure. Parker shudders again and a second orgasm coats Eliot’s tongue.

Eliot reaches down to undo his pants, freeing his cock from the too-tight confines of his jeans. His fingers are still wet from her when he guides himself out of his boxer briefs and when he speaks, his voice is little more than a rasp. “Drawer.”

Parker does a back bend and opens the drawer, pulling out a condom. She opens it as easily as she opens a safe and reaches down. Eliot moves up, his whole body trembling as she slides the condom onto his cock.

She barely has it on him before Eliot pushes inside her. Parker makes a sound as he fills her then wraps her arms and legs around him. Eliot lifts her as he sits back on his haunches, letting her ride down on him. She holds his shoulders, palm hot against the mark. It’s the same heat as her body surrounding his. She lifts up and sinks down almost painfully slow, and every stroke feels like a lifetime. “Perfect,” she breathes, biting and sucking on Eliot’s lower lip.

Eliot knows his hands are leaving bruises on her hips as he holds her, rocks up into her. He moves his hands back to the curve of her ass. Parker tightens around him and kisses him, no longer teasing. They move faster in a rough, desperate rhythm, Eliot holding her down against him, buried deep when he comes.

He guides Parker back onto the bed, thrusting shallowly as her muscles stay taut. She’s just on the edge of another orgasm and Eliot pushes forward to take one of her nipples into his mouth. He slips his hand between them and rubs her sensitive clit until she falls over the edge.

It takes a few moments for Eliot to catch his breath before he catches the end of the condom and pulls out of her. Parker shivers and Eliot grabs the comforter to drape over her while he goes into the bathroom to dispose of the condom. He wets a washcloth and cleans himself up, then runs it under hot water until the fabric is warm again.

Parker’s eyes are closed when he comes back. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Eliot eases the comforter off of her, carefully cleaning her up. She makes soft noises as the washcloth brushes over sensitive skin.

“You okay?”

She reaches up and strokes her finger across his mark. “I never thought I’d find you.”

“Not sure it’s a lucky thing.”

She frowns, brow furrowing. “Do we tell them?”

“No.” He reaches up and moves her hand away. “It’s nobody else’s business.”

“They shouldn’t know?”

“They don’t need to. The... main thing is out of the way. The first thing. We’ll be fine now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Eliot nods, even though he knows he’s probably lying. It doesn’t feel like any of this is over. “We’ll be fine. There’s no reason for any of them to know.”

Her frown deepens. “Not even Nate?”

“Especially not Nate.” Eliot shakes his head. “This is good, right? This team? We tell anyone, we mess it up.”

She nods, though she’s obviously still skeptical. “Should I stay? Tonight?”

He wants to say no, but he can feel the pull of her, can’t help watching her, looking at her sprawled beautiful and naked on his bed. “Just tonight.”

Parker takes his hand and pulls him down beside her, and he goes, even though he has every intention of resisting. He lies down beside her and she curls into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Eliot reaches out and traces her mark, thumb brushing over it. “It is a fairy tale. Not destiny. It’s not our future.”

“Mm. I like you, Eliot. I’m glad I like you.”

She’s asleep before he can think of a reply.

**

Nothing much changes, though Parker seems to touch Eliot more than anyone else on the team. They’re more the annoying touches of a sibling testing boundaries, but every once in awhile she’ll touch his mark or he’ll touch hers, and everything narrows down to the two of them. Those are the nights when, if they’re not running a con, she breaks into his house and they pretend she wakes him up, pretend he’s not waiting for her.

She’s always naked when she straddles him, and Eliot knows she’s giving him an excuse not to resist. He’s given up admitting he needs one, pulling her down on top of him, letting her naked body slide against his. She always gives a soft gasp as she settles over his cock, resting her body on him so that the seam of her legs brackets the swollen flesh.

The sex is never the same. They’re both hungry for each other in different ways every time. Eliot loves her mouth on him, loves the feel of her hot on his tongue. They do everything, try everything. Parker is limber and inventive, using Eliot as an anchor to keep her steady.

It’s even more desperate when they have to wait for a con to finish, when they have days before they can be alone, before she can sneak in. Those nights they collide in what feels like an explosion that rocks them both.

She stays the night each time, changing into clothes she’s brought or the ones she’s left there previously. Eliot washes them and leaves them in the bottom drawer of his dresser.

“You should make me breakfast.” Parker’s arm is across Eliot’s chest, her chin on her hand as she looks down at him. They’re both damp with sweat, and Eliot still has the taste of salt from her skin on his tongue.

“Why?”

“Because you live here.”

“You usually leave before I wake up.”

“No. I hide on the roof until you go for your run then I go back inside. When I hear you coming up the stairs, I go back outside and watch you have breakfast.”

“Why?”

“Because.” She shrugs. “So you should make me breakfast.”

“Because you stayed?”

“No. Because it’s special if you make it for me.” She sits up beside him and runs her fingers along the edge of his ribcage. Her hair falls around her face, the ends shadowing the curve of her breasts. “You make breakfast for the other ones, don’t you?”

“The other ones?”

She shrugs. “The other girls that you sleep with.”

“That’s different.”

“Because you have a choice with them?” She doesn’t sound hurt so much as confused. Eliot sits up and scoots back toward the wall so he’s leaning against the headboard. He reaches for her, drawing her into his lap. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“What do you make them?”

“Omelets. Crepes sometimes. Quiche. Frittata.”

She scrunches her nose. “So you don’t make them real food?”

“What do you want? Waffles? French toast? Pancakes?”

“All of them.”

Eliot laughs softly and pushes her hair back, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. “Sure. Carbs coming up.”

“Can I have chocolate chips in all of them?”

Eliot moves his mouth up, nipping at her jaw. “Sure.”

She smiles and wriggles closer to him. He hums quietly and combs his hand through her hair. She breathes against his chest, rubbing the tip of her nose against his collarbone. “Do you love any of them?”

“Them? The women I date?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“I’ve never loved anyone before. Not really. Do you think we’ll fall in love?”

“This isn’t about love, Parker.” He says the words gently. His fingers slip out of her hair and he trails them down her spine. She shivers at the touch of his rough fingertips.

“It’s not. But it happens, right? People fall in love.”

“We share something. Each have a piece of it. The marks are the universe’s way of telling us we’re the ones who have to put it back together. Maybe that’s why we’re here on this team. Maybe what we have is the key to making it work.”

“What if you do? Fall in love with one of them?”

Eliot turns his head and kisses the mark on her shoulder. She shivers and presses even closer. “They don’t matter, Parker. Not like you.”

**

Everything goes wrong on the next job. Parker gets trapped behind a time-lock door, Nate misses Sophie’s cue so the deal goes sour, and Hardison’s van gets towed while he’s finishing up in the building. Eliot’s in the basement, handcuffed to a hot water pipe that’s overheating and about to blow, thanks to the sabotage Eliot had interrupted. His skin is red and hot where it’s too close to the metal, and blisters are starting to form around the cuffs on his wrists.

“Eliot?”

He can hear Parker over the distant sound of Nate and Sophie arguing like the married couple they’re pretending to be. Fortunately they’re just near their ear buds, not actively bitching at each other with them in. “Yeah, Parker?”

“It’s dark in here.”

“Here too. They killed the power, lights. All I’ve got is the green of an emergency exit.”

“I don’t like it. It sounds hollow. All echo-y metal. Like a tomb.”

“I’m going to get you out of there, I promise.”

“I could get you out of those handcuffs.”

“I know you could.” He turns his wrist and hisses as his arm brushes up against the pipe. Steam is hissing and, if he’s reading the pressure gauges right, he has about ten minutes until the pipe blows.

“Do you ever get scared? You never seem scared.”

“Only when I can’t do my job and protect you.”

“You could dislocate your thumb.”

“Makes it hard to punch the bad guys, but I’m probably going to have to. Hopefully that’ll be enough.”

“Do you want me to break mine too? In solidarity?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary.” Eliot grabs his thumb and snaps it, biting back a sound as he does, There’s just enough give for him to work his hand free. Once he’s got one loose, he kneels down and stretches away from the pipe until it feels like his shoulder is going to pop out of the socket. He finally manages to reach the wrench the saboteurs had been using to rig the pipe as well as to blindside Eliot with a blow to the back of the head.

The gauges are well into the red, so he knows there’s no chance of him saving the situation, so he barrels toward the exit. The hissing fills the room, and hot bursts of water start erupting from the pipe, spraying in all directions.

He gets hit from behind as the pipe finally gives, boiling water and metal exploding out in every direction. He feels the burn on his skin even through his clothes as the water bowls him over. He catches himself as he falls then sinks down onto his arms, keeping his face down and his shoulders high.

He bites back his scream as the skin of his neck blisters in the pattern of the scalding spray. Someone must kill the water because it trickles to a stop. His skin feels like it’s on fire, like it’s too small for his body as he gets to his feet. “Eliot?”

There’s a crackle in the sound of the com, which is likely suffering from water damage. He takes it out of his ear and palms it as he leans against the hot wall next to the exit door and tries to catch his breath.

The door slams open and Sophie’s standing there holding a broken 2×4. She drops it when she sees Eliot and pulls him into a tight hug. He groans and pushes her away. “Hurts.”

“Eliot. You’re all right?” She reaches out to touch him again, stopping herself before she makes contact. “He’s all right everyone. Well, he’s not actually all right, but he’s glaring at me.”

“Where is everyone?”

“Hardison’s on his way back with the van. Nate’s dealing with Meyerson.”

“Parker?”

“She’s still in the room. Nate’s going to...”

“I’ll get her.”

“You’re in no shape to...”

“Are you coming with me, or are you just going to give me a working com?”

Sophie takes her ear bud out and hands it to him. He straightens, wincing as his skin pulls. “Where?”

“Seventh floor.” Eliot heads toward the stairs, but Sophie catches his hand and leads him to the service elevator. He nods his thanks, but she scoffs at him. “By the time you make it up the stairs in your condition, we’d be halfway through the next con.”

“Assuming we live through this one. How you doin’, Parker?”

“Eliot.” Her relief is almost palpable. “Eliot. It’s you.”

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

“What does that mean? How do you sit tight? Why would you?”

“Not a clue.” He taps his foot impatiently as the elevator rises. “Hardison? Any ideas?”

“Getting the schematics now. He’s rewired it from the original set up, so I’m going to have to do some reconfiguring. Wasn’t originally a time-lock Must have put it in as a fail-safe.”

“Obviously,” Parker says dryly.

“So we’ll have to find the workaround. You have any tools?”

“I’ve got a pair of broken handcuffs, a plumber’s wrench, a knife, and whatever Sophie’s got in her purse.”

“I’ve got a pair of tweezers, a set of lock picks, and an excellent shade of red lipstick.”

“I think I can use everything but the lipstick, but tell her thanks.” Hardison sighs. “Let me know when you’re there.”

The elevator finally stops and Eliot gets out. “Where are you, Parker?”

“East side. Last room on the left. Hidden panel behind the desk.”

“I’ll watch the door.” Sophie hands him her purse. “Try not to ruin the lipstick, hmm?”

“No promises.” He gives her a hint of a smile. He tries to take a deep breath, but the pain threatens again, so he sticks with shallow ones, focusing on Parker to block it out of his mind. He moves through the room to the hidden panel. “Okay, Hardison. Talk to me.”

“You see the metal doors?”

“Yeah.”

“Six inches to the right there should be a stud. The master override mechanism is rigged to it. You’re going to have to punch through the wall to get to it. But I don’t know what side of the stud it’s on, or how big the box is. I do know it’s probably made of steel, so if you hit it, you’re likely to break your fist.”

Eliot exhales through his nose and closes his eyes. “When this job is done, every single one of you owes me a beer. _Any_ guesses, Hardison?” He takes out Sophie’s lipstick and marks off the width of the stud. “How high up it might be? Anything?”

“Well...”

“Dammit, Hardison!”

“Punch low.”

Eliot growls under his breath. “I’m almost there, Parker.” He kneels down and punches through the plaster, peeling back drywall until his fingers brush something metal, the sharp edge slicing across his finger. “I hate this job.”

Parker laughs softly. “Me too.”

Eliot jerks the box open, twisting the metal out of the way. “Okay, Hardison. I’ve got a thick black cable, a thin black cable, a red cable, and then some yellow and green wires twisted together.”

“Okay, you’re going to have to trick it into thinking it’s still running when it’s not.”

“Unless I can do that by punching it, I’m going to need a little something more to work with.”

“Just shut up and listen.” Eliot follows Hardison’s instructions. He’s focusing hard enough that he barely notices the pain that keeps trying to grab his attention. Eliot hears Nate in the background, his voice getting clearer as he gets nearer. He’s talking with someone, and then Sophie’s voice joins theirs, leading them away from Eliot and Parker. “Okay, ready Eliot?”

“Yeah.”

“Now.”

Eliot uses the metal handcuffs to conduct the jolt of electricity Hardison sets over, overriding the door. The metal swings open and Eliot grabs it, getting it out of the way faster.

Parker comes to the doorway looking strangely small. “I sat tight. And you came.”

“’m always gonna come for you.”

She nods and takes out her ear bud before reaching up and taking his out as well. She shakes her head like she’s telling herself no, but then she’s pressed against Eliot, mouth hotter on his than the scalding water that seared his skin.

Eliot puts his hands on both sides of her face and pulls back. “You get what you came for?”

“Duh.” She holds up the device that she’d been sent to retrieve. “Always.”

**

He wants to fuck her that night, even though they haven’t finished the con and his body is in the feverish flu-like stage of a second-degree burn. He gets them all to drop the idea of him going to the hospital, and they split up for the night, going in opposite directions.

Eliot takes a cool shower and some pain killers, making sure none of the small blisters on his neck have burst. He waits an hour before heading to Parker’s hideout in a storage area in the industrial part of town. He hops the fence even though it hurts like hell, and weaves through the buildings before knocking on one of the garage-style doors. There’s no answer, and he rests his forehead against the cool metal.

“There isn’t a window for me to sneak through, Parker.”

There’s another moment of quiet, then a door to the left swings open. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

She frowns then steps back, letting Eliot inside. She keys in a code to re-lock the door, then leads him into the larger part of the unit. There’s a bed, a stuffed bunny, a lamp, a box of cereal, a box of cookies, and three duffel bags. “You should be in bed. Sophie said so.”

Eliot reaches out and cups Parker’s jaw with his hand, tilting her face up to his. “I’m where I need to be.”

“You’re hurt.” Eliot can tell from her voice that she doesn’t want to him to leave. He also knows she’s feeling residuals of his pain, echoes of what he’s suffering on the surface of her skin.

“I’m hurting you.”

“Is it helping?”

He leans in and nuzzles his nose against hers before placing a soft kiss on her lower lip. She makes a noise and he kisses her again, licking between her parted lips. Parker rises up on her tiptoes, opening under his kiss. Her tongue slides against his, tangling with it. Eliot teases the roof of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, catching her slight giggle in another kiss.

He guides her backwards until they reach the bed, and then he releases her, holding onto the metal frame of the bed as he lowers himself to his knees. Parker’s breath catches then stutters out of her as Eliot takes her hips in his hands and leans in to press a kiss to her stomach, just above the waistband of the dark leggings she’s wearing.

“Eliot.”

“Shh. Let me.”

He kisses her again, moving to bare skin as he lowers the waistband and eases the leggings down. Kissing a line across her stomach before he moves lower, licking at the soft blue panties she’s wearing before guiding them off of her as well. He kisses her thighs, one then the other.

“Sit?”

She nod as she licks her lips, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Eliot spreads her legs and kisses from the inside of her kneecap to the sweat damp curve at the top of her thigh. Her hands fist in the covers as he moves back toward her knee, stubble rubbing against her pale skin. He moves to the other thigh and does the same, feeling the quiver of her muscles. When he looks up at her, her eyes are locked on his mouth.

He pushes her legs wider apart and lowers his head, thumbs parting her labia, his tongue brushing the skin as he tastes her. His hands slip under Parker’s ass to tilt her hips, shifting her just enough so he can bury his face in her heat, his tongue licking and fucking inside her. Parker makes soft mewling noises as he feasts on her, as he explores every inch. She’s heavy like honey on his tongue, her clit slippery and slick as he sucks on it.

Parker’s body is tight, rigid as she teeters on the edge. Her back arches as she finally falls, and Eliot doesn’t move away until her very last shudder. He licks the taste of her off his lips, hand swiping across his damp chin. She reaches for him. “Let me.”

“No,” he breathes. “Let me.” He pulls her hips forward to the very edge of the mattress and guides her down onto her back with a gentle hand on her chest. Her breathing is unsteady as she tries to lift herself up on her elbows, falling back when his mouth settles on her again, taking advantage of her slickness to slip inside.

She tries to thrust down even though she has no leverage. She finally gives up and rides every stroke of Eliot’s fingers – first two, then three, then four before she loses control again and comes, shaking so hard it feels like she’s going to come apart in his hands.

He pulls back, exhaling loudly as he puts his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean of the taste of her. Parker keeps shivering, blinking rapidly. Eliot presses his nose to the damp hair at the vee of her legs, then catches strands of it on his tongue, sucking them as well.

“You came for me,” she manages, her voice thick with emotion.

He nods and moves down just enough that he can slide his tongue over her clit once more. “Can you come for me again?”

Tears glint in the corners of her eyes. She nods, letting her head fall back while Eliot licks at her until she’s overloaded and begging him to stop. He stays there between her legs, his head on her thigh, her hand in his hair. They haven’t touched each other’s marks at all, and yet the heat is there, lulling Eliot to sleep, burning even hotter than his skin.

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s on the floor, the concrete cool against his back. Parker’s head is hanging over the edge of the bed, and she’s staring at him.

“That’s unnerving.”

She beams at him. “Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.” He manages to sit up, his skin still feeling too tight. He leans against the mattress, his forehead resting against the side of her head.

“You fell asleep. I put you on the floor.” She frowns. “I don’t like that you got hurt.”

“I don’t like that I wasn’t there to protect you.”

“I was safe.”

“You were trapped.”

“I’m not claustrophobic.”

“But you couldn’t get out.”

“No.” She pulls away slightly and turns her head to look at him. “I felt it.”

They’ve been close to each other long enough now that their emotions and physical reactions are entangled. “I’m sorry.” He reaches out for her hand and takes it, threading their fingers together. “I wish I could have felt some of your lock-picking skills.”

“I can teach you. But you’re right. It would be cool if we could just...” She uses her free hand to point from her head to his.

Eliot leans forward, stealing a slow kiss. “Be more helpful than you feeling my pain and our inability to keep our hands off each other.”

“I love your hands.”

He laughs softly, the sound caught between them. “I like yours too.” He bumps his head against hers lightly then gets to his feet, hissing at the pain. “I’ll see you back at the office.”

“Not if I see you first.” She frowns. “Wait. That’s not right, is it?”

**

Nate keeps them busy after that, somehow finding con after con without much of a break in between. Being around Parker constantly seems to even out the clawing need they first started with and, unless he’s hurt badly, Parker doesn’t seem to do more than feel a twinge of pain when he does his job.

They settle into a routine that falls somewhere between siblings and old married couple, and none of the rest of the team seem to notice anything. Parker’s far more careful about touching Eliot, especially when they’re on the job.

She comes over some nights, seemingly knowing that Eliot’s thinking about going to bed. She shows up and talks him into making popcorn, then talks through the movies they watch, even though she knows it drives him crazy. She always sits on his left side and leans into him, pulling his arm around her so she can see his mark in the corner of her eye.

He’s gotten into the habit of stripping down to his tank top when he’s home for the night so he doesn’t have to hear Parker’s sighs alternate between annoyed and sad. The pouts that follow the sad ones are epic, but even though Eliot knows they’re for show, they still make him feel guilty.

“I like that you figured out I like you better without clothes.” She’s playing with his fingers, trying to make shadow animals with them. Every once in awhile she shakes off her hold and the only shadow on the wall is a very realistic middle finger.

“Well, thanks for objectifying me.”

“You’re welcome.” She tilts her head back and smiles at him. I like you with clothes too. Just not as much. Is that better?”

“Somewhat.” He lets her twist his fingers into a shape that vaguely resembles nothing in the animal kingdom.

“Ooh. That looked like a horse.” She drops his hand and uses her feet for leverage so she can push back closer to him. “Do you think we should get married?”

Eliot chokes on a breath and eases her away from him so he can straighten up. Once he gets air back in his lungs, he looks at her, wondering if his expression conveys any of what he’s feeling. Not that it matters, given Parker’s inability to read social cues. “What?”

“I looked stuff up on Hardison’s computer. To make sure we were doing this right. Since we’re not having so much sex anymore.”

“You...on Hardison’s computer? You know he can see what you look for, right?”

“I looked up all sorts of stuff, because a lot of things don’t make sense, and Sophie’s not always around.” She shrugs and swings her feet off the couch, sitting up near him, close but not touching. “So should we? Get married? Or do you just not want to have sex with me anymore?”

“I... No. I...Wh-” Eliot takes a deep breath, counts to ten and then exhales. “I pretty much always want to have sex with you, Parker.”

“Right now?”

She strips off her shirt and starts to stand up, but Eliot catches her wrist. His focus shifts to how delicate she is, even though she’s fearless and seemingly unbreakable. “I like you when we’re not having sex too.”

“Oh.” She frowns, obviously thinking. “I like you too. This. The non-naked parts. So we should get married?”

“We don’t have to get married. We’re good like this.”

“But what if something happens? What if you find a girlfriend? What if you go away?”

“Girlfriend?”

“We’re soul mates.” She touches her mark, then his. The familiar heat runs through Eliot and he has to fight the urge to touch her mark, feel the claim they have on each other, feel the part of himself that belongs to her. “That doesn’t mean that you love me. It doesn’t mean that you won’t want someone else. I read about it. We can’t help but want each other. But you can still want other people.”

“And you think I...”

“You have before!”

“Have what?”

“Had sex! With other people.”

“Parker, I’m 32-years-old. Of course I... Oh.”

She curls in on herself, reaching for her shirt and holding it in front of her. Her lower lip is caught between her teeth. Eliot closes his eyes for a moment, locking the sight in his memory in case he ever needs to torture himself.

“You never...”

“I don’t like people. I don’t understand them. I’m not... I’m _not like_ them.”

“No. You’re right. You’re not. That’s what makes you you, Parker.”

She looks up at him through her lashes. “I could feel what you liked. What I liked. What we wanted.”

“That’s how good sex works.”

“But I never had. And you gave it to me, because you had. A lot.” She frowns down at the floor, making it impossible for Eliot to catch her eye. “And you’ll probably want someone who knows...things. Not her own things. Not just the things you give her.”

Eliot slips off the couch onto his knees and moves in front of Parker. He catches her chin and lifts it up so she has to look at him. “Parker, you’re amazing. In bed and out. You drive me insane. In bed and out. And all of that is just you, Parker. Not me. Not anybody else.” He brushes his thumb lightly along her jaw.

“When you say in bed and out, are you talking about when we have sex in different places? Or are you talking about sex and not-sex?”

Eliot laughs softly and leans in, catching her in a kiss before he moves back onto the couch. “Put your shirt back on, and we’ll watch the rest of the movie.”

**

Parker nearly causes Hardison to choke when he asks if Alice can have sex. Eliot puts his head down on the table while Hardison fumbles through a series of false starts before actually forming a sentence. “I’m sorry, what?”

“If Alice wants to have sex with someone, could she? Like, have a date. A sex date.”

Hardison kicks the table, but it doesn’t stop Eliot from lightly pounding his head against it. “Do you want a sex date, Parker?”

“I'm not asking about me. I’m asking about Alice.”

“You _are_ Alice,” Eliot and Hardison remind her in unison.

“Oh. Right.”

“Do you... Because I could...” Hardison’s face is tinged with red when Eliot looks up, his eyes moving from Hardison to Parker, who is staring directly at Hardison.

Oh.

“You kids have a good night.” Eliot stands up and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair. “Tell Nate I’ll be back tomorrow morning. I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

Parker grabs the sleeve of his jacket. “Can we help?”

Eliot glances at her then away, shaking his head. “Not tonight.” He moves past her, keeping distance between them. He can see Parker’s frown out of the corner of his eye as she watches him walk to the door. He hears Hardison say Parker’s name just before the door closes, and Eliot leans against the solid wood for a minute.

His shoulder is burning as he yanks his jacket on, determined to get as far from there as he can.

It’s nearly dawn when he makes it home, and all he wants to do is crash for a couple hours. He’s spent most of the night in an internet cafe, trying to figure out what to do now, looking on the darknet for jobs. He drank his way through a pot and a half of coffee, cursing the universe, Dubenich, and Nate the entire time.

He knows he’s not sleeping when he walks into his bedroom and finds Parker sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“You have court in a couple of hours.”

She watches him move around the room. He sheds his boots and jacket, his jeans, socks, and t-shirt. “You’re mad at me.”

“I’m tired.” He grabs his pillow and a blanket from the foot of the bed and heads to the living room. “Go home.”

“I didn’t have a sex date. Neither did Alice.”

“You _are_ Alice.” The words come out between gritted teeth.

“Neither of us had one.”

“You can have as many as you want.” He gets on the couch and punches his pillow into place before lying down and covering up with the blanket. “Go home, Parker.”

“I want to have sex dates with you.”

“No. You don’t.” He sighs and sits up, looking at her. Her blonde hair is shining silver in the moonlight. “You’ve got some messed up romantic notion about what these marks mean. This isn’t a fairy tale. You’ve got a piece of me. I’ve got a piece of you. We fucked and we couldn’t get it back. I’ve lived without it for a long time. I still can.”

Her face changes and, for a moment, he wants to take it all back. “You killed people.”

He refuses to react to her words. They’re true, and he doesn’t try to hide the fact of what he did or the fact the he doesn’t do it anymore. Something about the words from her mouth hurt more than any other wound he’s received. “Yeah. That’s what I did.”

She nods stiffly. “I'll see you at the office.”

She goes out the door, and it’s disorienting to see. Part of him wasn’t even sure she knew where it was.

The mark is still there when he wakes up, still there when he showers. He knows he broke something between them because he feels it, but the universe either isn’t listening or it just doesn’t care that the closest thing Eliot has to a best friend is falling in love with Eliot’s soul mate. And it certainly doesn’t care that Eliot has no intention of getting in the way.

He stares at himself in the fogged-up bathroom mirror and touches the coil of rope. Maybe it’s her mark that’s gone. Maybe that’s what he accomplished. He knows she doesn’t have another mark. If she doesn’t have his, maybe she’ll just live her life with Hardison and no obligations.

She doesn’t look at him when he comes into the office, and he doesn’t watch her leave. Hardison gives him a strange look, but Eliot just shrugs, letting Hardison assume it’s just Parker being Parker.

**

The David job goes south in so many ways, and the constant ache from being around Parker is amplified as Sophie’s not so little secret comes out and they all walk away from each other. Nate says six months, but it sounds like never to Eliot’s ears. He tells himself he’s glad, because it means he can get back to his real life, away from this, them. Her.

He goes back to his apartment to clean the place out, most of what he needs fitting in his Army duffel. He opens the bottom drawer and stares at the contents – Parker’s things. He brushes his fingers over the black shirt then shuts the drawer. Straightening up, he shoulders his bag and turns, not surprised to see Parker sitting in the window sill.

“Are you coming back?”

“Said I would.”

“But would you lie?”

He shrugs. “People in my line of work don’t always get a say.”

“But would you _lie_?”

He blows out a long breath. “No.”

She takes a few steps closer and, despite his brain telling him to move back, Eliot stays still. “It aches. Hurts. Inside. In the part where you are.”

“You’ll get over it. Plenty of people don’t have the marks. Plenty of people never meet their soul mate. You’re gonna be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” She shoves him hard. “You don’t know what I feel! How I feel! I don’t like it! I don’t like _feeling_!”

“It’ll be fine once I leave.”

“And what about when you come back? Because you said you would. Like a promise.”

Eliot shakes his head. “You’re not in love with me. You’re not even in like with me. It’s a compulsion. The universe’s sick little joke.” He shakes his head and clenches his fists so he won’t reach out and touch her. “Besides I’m a murderer, remember?”

“I didn’t... I didn’t mean...”

“It’s true.” He shrugs. “It’s always going to be true. Some things don’t change.”

“You’re a good person.”

“No, Parker.” He turns away from her, heading for the door. “I’m not.”

**

Eliot spends the next month in Croatia doing what he gets paid to do. Like always, he keeps an ear out for Moreau, not wanting to be anywhere he is. He gets a tip and heads down to the Belgian Congo, working with a couple of small villages trying to save their children from the militia’s recruitment plan of rape, torture, and kidnapping. He’ thinks he’s content enough that he could stay there, since he can almost ignore the ache in his shoulder now that it has lessened in intensity so far away from Parker.

His brain keeps working the David problem, and he finally gives in to the pull of the job. He manages a ride back to the states with a group of college students who just assume he’s one of the groups of counselors.

He doesn’t go back to his apartment when he lands. He rents a crappy apartment in a crappy part of town and lives out of his duffel bag. He steals a museum guard uniform and heads for the museum. For all the hype about beefing up security for the exhibit, no one does a very good at recognizing someone supposedly on their most wanted list.

He sees Hardison, which means the others are probably close, all of them with the same idea. Of course, the minute he sees Hardison is pretty much the minute it all goes to hell. He sees Parker and he realizes he’s felt her the entire time, but seeing her makes something burn in his chest. He gets Hardison out without fighting anyone – except Hardison – and they take off at a run.

Sophie and Parker appear from the other direction and then Nate’s there like magic. They all pile in and, despite Eliot’s best efforts, Parker ends up between him and Hardison, the three of them crowded in the back seat.

As soon as they get to the monstrosity Hardison calls his home, they all get out of the car, keeping their distance from each other. Eliot’s careful to not even get close to Sophie, and he tries to keep his distance from Parker too. He doesn’t want to think about the heat that’s seeping through his bones, filling him up the longer he’s around her, the way everything seems to suddenly slot into place.

He focuses on the con, catching the look Parker gives him when he calls Maggie. She frowns, eyes narrowed, but she takes the button cam from Hardison and comes over to attach it to Eliot’s shirt. “You came back.”

“I said I would.”

“I thought you lied.”

“I meant to.” He moves away from her, grabbing his jacket as he heads toward Hardison. He takes Nate’s car, listening to the rest of them clamber into the van. As beautiful as Maggie is, Eliot has no desire to be between her and her jealous ex-husband. He’s also not interested in needing a reason to decipher the look in Parker’s eyes.

Coffee with Maggie would be amazing if he could forget the look Nate gave him when he thought Eliot was hitting on her. Knowing that the rest of the team is watching, he has to fight the urge to run when Maggie touches him. Running seems like the best option when she starts disparaging Nate, but she busts them all by recognizing the button cam.

Bursting in on the team in the van effectively ends his part, and now that it’s over for the day, he leaves them all behind and heads back to his apartment. Hardison had told them all to stay with him in his house, but there’s too much emotion and tension between all of them for Eliot to handle.

He’s halfway through his beer when the bathroom door opens. He doesn’t ask Parker how she managed to find him, or how she managed to fit through a window that small. He’s afraid she’ll tell him. She sits on the table in the corner and folds her legs under her. He doesn’t look at her, just takes another pull from his beer. “What’re you doing here, Parker?”

“You were far away.”

“I was busy.”

“Did you do good things? Or bad things?”

“That depends on which side you’re on.” He sets his beer down and rubs the back of his neck, feeling the cold from the condensation on his skin.

“What if I’m on your side?”

“I don’t have a side.” Eliot shrugs. “What are you doing here, Parker?”

She gets up and walks over to him, crossing the short distance quickly. She puts her hands on her hips and glares down at him. He should take it as a threat, normally would, but he can’t think of Parker that way. “Take your shirt off.”

“No.”

“Take it off.” Her stance shifts and her voice changes. She’s actually angry.

Eliot sits up and drops his legs over the side of the bed. He unbuttons his shirt, leaving it on but open.

“Take it _off_.”

Eliot shrugs out of the flannel and, even though he’s wearing less, the room heats up. Parker moves closer, between Eliot’s parted legs. He doesn’t remember spreading them, silently inviting her closer. Parker puts her hands on the sides of his neck, palms hot and dry. She lets them slide down to his shoulders, both of their bodies jerking in shock when her fingers settle over his mark.

She looks down, watching her fingers trace along the coil of rope, or maybe watching the goosebumps rise on Eliot’s skin. “You’re still mine.”

He wants to strip off her shirt and see if he can still claim that a piece of her is his. He doesn’t though. He doesn’t move except to shiver at her touch.

“Did you kill anyone?” She asks it matter-of-factly, and it’s like ice in Eliot’s veins. He suddenly doesn’t want to see her bare skin, doesn’t want to see the pale, perfect skin where it’s probably now blank, where he knows his mark used to be.

“I don’t do that anymore.” He pushes her hands away then pulls up his shirt from where it pooled at his wrists, and doesn’t look at her as he buttons it. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the museum.”

She stares at him for several long seconds then leaves. He doesn’t watch to see if she goes through the door she slams is to the apartment or to the bathroom. He just drains his beer and stretches out on the bed. He’s not going to sleep, and staring at the ceiling seems a lot smarter than getting drunk out of his mind.

**

The con goes just as they plan with Sterling playing his role perfectly. They all express disappointment that they can’t bring him down too, but this is Nate’s revenge, and he says he owes Sterling something. It edges too close to the subject of Sam for anyone, even Sophie, to try to figure out what it is.

They gather at the airport a few hours later. Nate thanks them. They all say the right things so they can walk away. Eliot’s ready for it. Ready to be done with helping people when his job, by definition, is to hurt. Ready to walk away from everything else. Everyone else. Parker makes him feel whole, but the way she looks at him – or doesn’t – makes him hollow. This isn’t his world. It’s theirs. Sleight of hand and cybercrime, cat burglars and con men.

He’s brute force and he has no real place among them.

“How far are you goin’?” Hardison asks, drawing Eliot back into the conversation.

Parker smiles at Hardison, her eyes bright. “Let’s see how hard you look.”

**

He’s not sure how Sophie manages to get hold of him. He’s also not sure he’s enough of a masochist to voluntarily go see Sophie in anything, much less a _musical_. But he’s tired of the jungle, and he’s tired of the quiet, and he’s craving an honest-to-goodness steak. He knows the others will be there. They have to be. That’s who Sophie is. How she works.

But Hardison no doubt looked for Parker, probably found her. And Eliot’s read enough to know that chosen lovers, families, always trump the universe’s plans. He’s standing in a hotel room, ready to go, save for the fact that he’s still in the bathroom, bare-chested. There’s a new scar that runs from his navel to his hip. It’s thin and almost healed, nearly invisible. He traces it with his fingers before pressing them to his shoulder. He doesn’t feel anything. Just like before he’d met her.

He’ll be fine.

He finishes getting ready and goes, deliberately not looking for them. His crew? His team? He turns away from the girls he’s talking to and sees the three of them looking at him. He walks over and, just like that, he knows they’ll pick up where they left off. Apparently he’s moving to Boston.

The con goes south, but that seems to be par for the course with them. They manage to improvise and pull the whole thing off with minimal damage. It’s a heady feeling, even though Parker punches him and tells him he’s not allowed to get shot. Even pretend-shot. Then Hardison gives him a set of blueprints and a chainsaw.

Already things are looking better than they had in Pakistan.

**

They end up staying all night at Nate’s rearranging his living space into a headquarters. Nate eventually gives up protesting. Eliot’s not sure if it’s becausehe knows it’s a losing battle or because Eliot just keeps turning the chainsaw back on when Nate starts talking. He finally throws up his hands and goes upstairs, muttering under his breath.

“He really shoulda done that an hour ago.” Hardison pauses in the middle of his tech set up that he keeps trying to explain to them. He takes a long pull from his bottle of orange soda. “I mean, he had to know he wasn’t gonna win, right?”

Parker moves closer to Eliot, reaching out. Eliot slaps her hand. “No, Parker.”

“You got to!”

“ _No_ , Parker.”

“But I want to chainsaw things! Hardison, why does Eliot get to use the power tools.”

“Compensation.” Sophie grins at Eliot, her gaze dipping down before she looks back up and moves to the couch, settling on it with her cup of tea.

“I am _not_ compensating for _anything_.” Eliot glares at her, but Sophie just smiles back at him. Eliot really wishes he could be annoyed.

“He’s not.” Parker nods. All three of them stare at her, and it takes her a minute to realize it by the way she suddenly frowns. “What?”

“Parker? You and...” Hardison looks between the two of them, his forehead creasing and his face falling. Sophie’s eyebrows have practically disappeared into her hairline, but her gaze is solely on Eliot.

Parker looks at Eliot and shrugs. “He’s the best at what he does, right? We all are. So why would he have to compensate?”

Sophie and Hardison both nod and seem to relax. Eliot exhales slowly. “We’re done with the chain saw.”

“But I could just rev it and chase everyone around.” She mimes doing it, and Eliot can feel the headache starting behind his eyes. 

“You know what? She’s yours to deal with. I’m going home.”

“You don’t have a home yet!” Hardison calls out as Eliot starts to the door.

“You don’t know that,” Eliot responds.

“I don’t... You think I don’t know everything about all y’all? I know more about you than your mama knows. I know...”

Eliot shuts the door behind him, cutting off Hardison’s rant. He exits down the back stairs and into the alley. Parker swings off the edge of the fire escape and lands right in front of him. “You didn’t look for me.”

Eliot shakes his head. “No.”

“What did you do?”

“Odd jobs.”

She falls in step with him, walking closer than Eliot’s comfortable with. “Hinky jobs, Hardison said. Is hinky good or bad?”

“You’d have to ask Hardison. He’s the one who said it.”

“But you’re the one who did it. You didn’t kill people.”

He sighs, drawing out the exhale. “No. Told you I don’t do that anymore.”

“See, that’s good. Killing people is bad.”

“I know, Parker. That’s why I don’t do it anymore. Go back upstairs.”

“It’s not as bad anymore. Why isn’t it as bad?”

Eliot swallows down his first response and shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

“Do you not like my soul anymore?”

“Is the mark still there?”

She reaches up and touches her shoulder. “Yes.” She sounds upset. Hurt. Great. Just great.

“Then we’re good.”

“Promise?”

He’s careful to keep his voice soft. “I promise.”

“Do you want to have sex now?”

“Parker.” It takes him a moment to push down his annoyance, his want. “Go back upstairs.”

“So... That’s a no?”

“Parker.” He keeps his voice low, but he can’t keep the heat from it.

“Okay.” She nods, but she’s still frowning. “Do you still have yours?”

Eliot rubs his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah. I’ve still got mine.”

“Good.” She kisses his cheek, then jumps to grab the ladder and swing herself back up. Eliot exhales and starts walking, sucking in deep breaths to clear his head as he walks back to his hotel.

**

He’ll have to start looking for a new place in Boston since he has no intention of living above a bar, or of living anywhere close to the team. It’s easy enough to find a place, and he’s got enough money to buy something outright so he can put in his own security measures. He stays in the hotel until everything goes through.

He uses one of his old aliases to buy the house, hoping Hardison doesn’t know or track them. Knowing Parker she’ll find it anyway, but that doesn’t mean he has to make it easy for any of them. Of course, Parker shows up in his hotel room a couple of nights later, perched on the edge of his bed. Eliot’s eyes are closed, but he’s not asleep. Hasn’t been since she first touched the window.

“What do you want?”

He doesn’t feel her move, but he knows she’s closer. He opens his eyes as she tugs the covers down and looks him over. Her fingers are feather-light as they trace the new scar. “It hurt a lot.”

“Yeah.” He means to snap it, but his voice comes out soft, husky.

Parker leans in and presses a kiss to the end at his hip.

“Don’t.”

“I missed you. Did you miss me too?”

Like a phantom limb, if he admits the truth to himself, but he doesn’t say it. “Yeah. Missed all of you.”

She breathes from his hip to his navel, then nuzzles her way down to the waistband of his boxers. “Did you miss _me_?”

His body reacts like it always does, even more than when she’s just close. His voice is barely above a whisper. “You know I did.” She moves down farther, her breath now ghosting along his cock. He groans roughly. “Parker.”

“I missed you. A lot” She licks the length of him through the fabric of his boxers.

“We can’t...can’t do this”

She sits back and he has to bite back another groan, this one of disappointment. “Why not?”

“Because you don’t want to.”

She tilts her head. “How do you know that.”

“Because you’re only doing this because of that.” He touches her shoulder, his whole body reacting.

“No.”

“Parker, before that job, before we realized. Did you even look twice at me?”

“I look at you a lot.”

“Not.” He’s not completely sure how he can want someone who drives him insane so much. “Did you want to have sex with me?”

“I like having sex with you.”

She sounds so matter of fact, that Eliot almost wants to give in. “I didn’t ask you that. I asked if you _wanted_ to.”

“I don’t think I ever want to.”

Well, if Eliot ever needed something to kill a hard on, that was it. “Go _home_ , Parker.”

“Are you mad? You sound mad. Are you mad at me, Eliot?”

She sounds scared, so he takes a deep breath and shakes his head. He gives her a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes, but he tells her the truth. “No, Parker. I’m not. It’s late. I’m tired. Go home.”

She squints, her mouth pursed, then she bounces off the bed. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

He manages to wit until he’s sure she’s gone before he beelines it to the bathroom and vomits up what feels like everything he’s ever eaten.

**

The next job they get, Eliot spends very little time with Parker. It’s good, since he can’t stomach seeing her for more time than he has to. It stays that way for several cons, and it calls on all of his training not to put as much distance between them as he can.

Nate gives Eliot a few looks, but he keeps ignoring them. It’s easier than answering any questions Nate might come up with, putting his disturbing amount of insight into figuring out what might be going on between Eliot and Parker.

He’s careful not to avoid her, careful not to act any differently around her. She still pokes at him for a reaction, and he still reacts, they still work together like a team. Sophie frowns in their direction sometimes, but, like Nate, she leaves them alone as well.

The only person who _doesn’t_ leave him alone is Parker. She perches on the arm of his chair. She hangs on to him, she jumps knowing that he’ll catch her. Knows he’ll be there if she falls. He always is, always does. He also always lets her go as soon as he can. She smiles at him, bounces with excitement, and drives him crazy.

He spends his nights barely sleeping, surviving on whatever food he can keep down. The only way he can sleep is sitting up in a chair. He’s wary and barely under, his nerves raw and rough. He takes his disgust with himself out at the gym or on the bad guys they fight, and he goes home with women who want him – _actually_ want him.

Sophie leaves and Nate drinks. Hardison and Parker get closer, and Eliot uses Tara as an excuse to stay the hell away. They’re all individual pieces functioning as a team because they’re all professionals. Parker starts spending more time with Hardison, and Eliot finds himself gravitating toward Nate and Tara. Nate’s falling apart, and Eliot wonders if the team is going to fall apart with him.

Sterling shows up, and working with him seems to unite them again. Eliot figures it has something to do with fighting a common enemy, but the trust the team puts in him is the first time Eliot hasn’t felt like they’d be better off without him.

“Eliot, man?”

“What?” They’re on their way back from Kiev, and all of them are exhausted. Eliot’s riding the dangerous edge of not enough sleep and his eyes hurt. His _eyelashes_ hurt.

“You okay?”

Eliot sighs, but doesn’t open his eyes to look at Hardison, who isn’t supposed to be sitting next to him. Eliot’s supposed to be sitting next to a teenager and an expectant mother. “Go away, Hardison. I’m sleeping.”

“Okay. I know if anyone can sleep and talk it’s you, but I know you’re awake.”

“Yeah? You monitoring my heart rate and shit?”

“No! No. No, man.” Hardison looks panicked when Eliot opens his eyes, and he busies himself with shoving his phone down between his thigh and the side of the seat farthest from Eliot. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Right.”

“It’s just...” Hardison sighs. “Well, you’ve been acting kind of weird for a while, and I just... Like, did we do something wrong? Are you pissed at us?”

“No.”

“You sure, man, because...”

“I said no. But if you keep asking questions, I’ll _get_ mad. If that’s what you want.”

“No. Look. Just. Never mind.” Hardison stands and Eliot reaches over and grabs his wrist.

“I’m not mad, Hardison.”

“You’d tell us if you were, right? If you were pissed at us?”

“I would. And this...this ain’t you.”

“You...you okay? Like you need to talk?”

Eliot shakes his head and manages a smile, too tired for it to be sharp. “No. I’m good. Thanks.” He releases Hardison’s wrist so he can move away. He’s a few steps down the aisle when Eliot speaks again. “Hardison? Thanks.”

After they land they’re all too busy to think. Nate finds them case after case after case, and Eliot goes along with it, glad to be working instead of thinking. After Hardison’s comments on the plane, Eliot does his best to be more of a part of the team, throwing out Hardison’s microwave popcorn in disgust and making real popcorn for their rare down-time movie nights. He always sits in the chair, never on the couch near Hardison and Parker, but he’s there, and that has to count for something.

When they get the psychic job and Rand messes with Parker, they all stand up, willing to protect her, even as they try to calm her down. Eliot’s pretty sure he’s the only one who’s really honest with her when she asks if they can kill him.

He says yes. And he means it.

He’s pretty sure that scares him more than anything Rand said scares her.

**

Taking down Rand is easier than some of their jobs have been, but he has to work more closely with Parker and Hardison. It’s easy to see the way they gravitate toward each other, and since he’d been going opposite directions from her, he’d forgotten the way it twists his stomach.

Thankfully the next job has him away from the team a lot of the time, and it’s easy to pick up women fawning over the Beaver’s new baseball hero. He’s walking off after one game, looking around, when he spots a familiar blonde in the audience. He walks up to the dugout and nods beside it. Parker comes down and stands across from him. “Hi.”

“What’re you doing here, Parker?”

“No part for me today. I thought I’d come see what you were up to.”

“Just doing my job.” Someone calls out to him and Eliot waves, nodding in their direction. The guy looks at Parker and gives him a thumbs up. She sees him and gives him a thumbs up right back. He grabs her hand and pulls it down. Touching her is a mistake.

“You look good. I mean, in the game. Looked. And those pants. I like those pants. You should keep them.” She’s looking at him with wide eyes, dilated pupils. It’s been so long, and Eliot _wants_ , but he can hear her voice in his head.

“Where are we on the con?” Her brow furrows when he takes a step back, but she brings him up to date. Jumping over the barrier, she follows him into the dugout. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He walks into the locker room to change, most of the guys just finishing up their showers. He goes to his locker and grabs his clothes, turning around and seeing Parker in the doorway.

“Parker!”

She looks at him. “What?”

“I told you to wait outside.”

“I don’t see why. We were still talking.” She sits on one of the benches and crosses her legs. The guys are all staring at her, though some of them switch their gaze to Eliot.

“Because there are _people_ in here. Who are _naked_.”

“I’ve seen naked people before.” She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal just because they have penises. And, I mean, guys like it when girls look at their penises, right?” She looks right at Eliot’s, and he hates that he can feel his body respond.

“Parker. Out.”

She heaves an exaggerated sigh, and stomps out of the room. Eliot closes his eyes, opening them to see all the guys looking at him.

“Is that your _girlfriend_? She’s hot.”

“She’s not my...she’s my...” Eliot growls. “I’m gonna shower.”

When he gets out, the room is empty. Except for Parker who’s sitting right in front of his locker. She’s looking intently at a jock strap, stretching the elastic. “How much weight do you think one of these could support?”

“It’s made to hold up a guy’s...I thought I told you to wait outside.”

“Yeah, because of the other guys, right? They’re gone, so I came in. I’ve seen you naked.” She shrugs. “Nate’s going to need us to go down to the docks and find out where the guns are. You’re not wearing your ear bud?”

“No. Are...Did you just...” Eliot rubs his face with his hands. “Did you just say all that while wearing your ear bud?”

“You mean the naked part?”

“Yes, I mean the...” Eliot’s beginning to think he should start drinking heavily. “Yes. That part.”

“Oh, no. I turned it off. You said you didn’t think people should know. I mean, you didn’t say they shouldn’t know now that we’re not doing things, but you didn’t say they should, so I just figured you still felt the same way.”

“I do. Anything that involves us is better without anyone knowing.” He looks around the room then back at her. “Parker, could you just...I need to get dressed.”

“And?”

“And I need you to leave so I can do that.”

“Why?”

“Because I do. So just... please. Get out of here. I’ll meet you at the docks.”

“Nope. I have the car. I’ll drive.”

**

Eliot almost wishes he timed these things, because he’s pretty sure that everything goes to hell faster than normal. The Feds, gunrunners, _Sterling_ , and then Nate getting shot and playing the damn martyr. The only good thing is that Sophie’s there, but that doesn’t mitigate the fact that Nate set all of them up so he could take the fall. He was conning them, and Eliot’s getting pretty damn sick of people on this crew conning each other.

They work for months on jobs until Nate finally decides he’s willing to work with them again, to stop acting like he deserves his punishment, like he is a thief and deserves to go down for it. What the rest of them know, what he _doesn’t_ know, is that thieves – good thieves – don’t go to jail. And they’re all _very_ good thieves.

They get him out of jail and bring a corrupt warden and a few judges down, and then, before they can catch their breath, they find out about the Italian. And then Nate tells them they’re going after Damien Moreau.

And Eliot’s not sure he’ll ever breathe again.

**

They still work on jobs, some of them on the trail of Moreau and others because that’s what they do. And then Parker goes up against a Steranko on her own, and everything inside him turns to ice. Hardison tells him to get up to her and Eliot asks him if he wants him to crawl forty stories up the side of the building. The thing is, he knows he would do it. He’d dig his fingers into the rock and glass until he couldn’t feel them anymore if it meant saving her.

He may not be what she wants, but he’s hers whether she wants him or not. When he sees the window washers, he feels guilty for taking them down, but it’s Parker. He’s realized that he’ll kill for her, so knocking out two guys just doing their job is something he’s willing to do.

Of course, she _is_ Parker and, more than anyone, she believes in what they’re doing, so she refuses to let him get her out. Which means he has no choice but to go in. The smile she gives him is worth it.

In the end they get her out, they all get out, and they manage to save the day. Eliot’s tempted to knock Archie on his ass, but the way Parker looks at him keeps him from saying or doing anything. He’s not sure what Parker says, if anything, but something about the way Archie looks at him makes him reach up and rub his shoulder.

Nate keeps pushing them closer and closer to Moreau, and Eliot works harder and harder to beat the team to the punch. His apartment is covered with timelines and plans, all written in his precise handwriting. There are a few places where it’s slightly imperfect when a sharp memory hit him and his hand shook for a minute.

He has hard copies of all of Hardison’s research on Moreau, and he’s combed through it until he can practically recite it verbatim. Moreau’s current known associates, his accounts, everything there is to be found on Moreau is in his possession.

And Eliot has no idea what to do.

He takes a few short trips to meet people he knows and people he doesn’t, channels all his fear and frustration into beating everything they know out of them, but for every step he gets closer, he seems to end up farther back than he started.

He spends the three months in between cases trying to find a way to stop Damien. He thinks he finally has a plan in place. He has every intention of telling Nate he needs a few days off when the Italian moves up their deadline.

Something inside Eliot aches because he knows this is the end, and the marks on his skin start to burn. He tries to tell them, tries to stop them, but whatever reasons Nate has for going along with the Italian, it’s clear he’s not backing down. Once they get to DC, Eliot leaves as quickly as he can to put a few things together before he has to take Hardison to meet Moreau. Before he has to tell his best friend he’s not who Hardison thinks he is. He’s not even the _kind_ of man Hardison thinks he is.

He feels Hardison react when Eliot tells them who he is, when he sees how the other men react. Eliot’s like a ghost story, the bogey man. He knows Hardison doesn’t understand it yet, but it won’t take long before the puzzle pieces fall into place like the tumblers on Parker’s locks.

It all happens fast, even though the walk to Chapman seems to take forever. Eliot’s heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest, but he doesn’t show any fear, any emotion. Hardison, to his credit, plays along like he was born to do this, not even overselling the grift. Of course, Damien is Damien and he’s got no reason to trust Eliot, much less a man he doesn’t know.

When Hardison goes in the water, it takes every ounce of Eliot’s self-control to keep himself still. He knows how to do business with Moreau. He knows the right answers and the way to give them. He knows what sets Moreau off. He knows because he stood beside him for five years on the other side of the table. For a second the smell of the chlorine reminds him of the first time and that’s the only time he almost loses his cool.

Damien hands Eliot the keys to the handcuffs as soon as Eliot agrees. He drops them in the water despite the urge to jump in and pull Hardison out himself. Hardison doesn’t miss a beat, and Eliot knows Damien’s convinced. They leave and Eliot breathes because the worst is over. The first kill is always the hardest.

Hardison bitches loud, and fast, and scared. Eliot knows he deserves every word and more, and every one feels like a physical blow. He hates it because it means he’s ruined everything, but he hates it even more when Hardison goes silent. That one’s not a blow. That one’s a knife twisting in Eliot’s side.

**

“Eliot?”

He’d known she’d accept his request not to ask him in front of the others. He’d also known she’d show up like this in the middle of the night. He exhales slowly and snaps off the bathroom light. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. “What are you doing here, Parker?”

She walks over to him slowly. There’s nothing scared about her, Nothing seductive. She knows he’s killed people, so he thinks she – maybe even better than Nate – can guess at what is worse than that, what the worst thing he ever did was.

Every one of Moreau’s men has innocent blood on his hands. Families. Children. Bystanders. Eliot’s no different. The blood’s just more personal. He expects a direct question from her, and he’s not sure he can get out the words to tell her the truth about pain and torture. About Serena. About the baby. He knows he’ll find a way for her though.

Instead of saying something, Parker stops in front of him, close enough that he can feel the fan of her breath on his chest. He’s taught her things, ways she can hurt him if he doesn’t fight back.

And he won’t.

She grabs the hem of her shirt and tugs it off. Her words echo in his head again and he realizes he lied. What he did to her was the worst thing he’s ever done. And that he did on his own.

He opens his mouth to say something, even though he knows he can never apologize, but nothing comes out. Parker takes his hand and rests it on the mark on her shoulder. It’s darker than he remembers, and instead of a changing grip, instead of a fist, it’s an open hand.

His hand shakes as he slides his thumb over it. Parker takes advantage of the moment and moves into him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Eliot.”

He has to clear his throat to actually talk. “For what?”

“For having part of your soul.”

“Yeah. I don’t blame you.”

“Maybe if you’d had all of it, he couldn’t have hurt you like that.” She looks up at him and Eliot sees a lot of things in her eyes, but there’s no sign of fear, hatred, or disgust.

“No.” He wants to tell her that he did it to himself, Damien isn’t the guilty party. He catches her chin and strokes his thumb along her jawline. “That’s not on you. Never.”

“You’re a good guy now. Well, a good bad guy. I mean you were good at being bad before but now you’re a good good bad guy.”

“Parker.” He shakes his head. “I get it.” Leaning in he plants a soft kiss on her forehead. “You know what I think?”

“Hmm?” She shakes her head, her blonde hair brushing his bare chest. She rests her head against him, her hand settled over his heart.

“I think you having that mark means there’s one piece of my soul that Damien Moreau never touched. That means you have the one good piece of me that’s left.”

“You’ve got lots of good pieces. You just don’t see them.” She turns her head and kisses his thumb. “Can I stay tonight? Just to stay.”

“Yeah.” He kisses the top of her head and tightens the hug for a moment before letting her go. “You can stay.”

**

The next day he kills a warehouse full of men, kills Chapman at close range, and then shows up just in time to see Moreau. He rushes at him, determined to do what he should have done years ago, but Nate catches him before he can. Nate promises them it’s not over, and Eliot secures another list of names in his head, another room full of death in his mind. He doesn’t regret what he did. Keeping Nate and the team safe, that’s his job.

It had all narrowed down to that too-large distance between where they were and the door. Even if it wasn’t Atherton, Nate had told him he might have to be that man again. At least this time if he didn’t make it out alive it would mean dying _for_ something. He hadn’t thought he’d feel that again.

He snaps the first guy’s neck and muscle memory takes over from there. He cocks the gun. Killing is easy. Not killing takes discipline. As Moreau’s men go down, Eliot remembers what it felt like when he joined the Army, actually fighting for a cause, for something he believes in.

It almost takes him by surprise to realize that the fact his team doesn’t want him to kill means he can live with the fact that, after all these years, he has to. He still asks Nate not to tell the others, but the only ache he feels is because Moreau got away.

On the plane he can hear Parker and Hardison whispering, and he can feel it beneath his skin that everything’s changed, everything’s shifted. She’s in love and starting to realize it, and whatever it was, it’s over. Mark or not, she’s not his anymore, which is good. She can keep one part of him safe from who he really is.

Nate doesn’t say anything as he sits across from Eliot on the private plane. He leans forward and hands him a beer before settling back in his chair and taking a drink from his glass. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Nate’s good about not taking sacrifices for granted. So when he said they were going to San Lorenzo to finish the job, Eliot knows it isn’t so much for the Italian or Leverage as it is for Eliot.

**

He’s not supposed to. He’s been given very specific orders by Nate and Sophie and Hardison not to. He still goes down to the tombs before they leave. The guards let him pass, and Eliot assumes it’s on General Flores’s word. He knows Eliot and Moreau and their history. He understands things Nate never will.

Damien sits up as soon as Eliot comes into view. “Which one is it? Or which ones?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“The marks. Which one?” Damien laughs. “I knew I should have found them and had them killed.” He looks Eliot over. “The girl.”

Walking to the bars, Damien stares at Eliot. Eliot gives him a slow smile. “I finally figured out why you hated them so much. Because it meant there were pieces of me you couldn’t own. Pieces you couldn’t ever touch. That pissed you off.” Eliot steps close, his grin widening. “And so I could never belong to you.”

“You _did_ belong to me.” Damien snarls.

“No. I thought I did. I believed it. Of course, I was an idiot back then.”

“ _You belonged to me_. In every way. Heart. Body. Soul. My bitch. My dog. My killer. Do they know what you really are, Eliot?”

“Yeah. They know what I am. They also know I’m not that man.” He points at Moreau. “Your man. Not anymore.”

He turns and walks away. He feels free. Not clean. He’ll never feel clean, but he is free. He’s not the man who lived and breathed for Damien Moreau. He’s free and, for the first time in his life, he believes it.

**

Every inch of the job in Alaska is a living hell, which is ironic, but typical of them. When they’re trapped in the cave, even as they’re trying to plan everything out, Eliot can see the words bubbling inside Parker, and he’s waiting, braced for the explosion.

“Do you know who it is?”

“Who what is?”

“The other person.” She points to her side where Eliot’s second mark is. “Do you know?”

“No.”

“Do you think Alan was Karen’s soul mate?”

“I think, Parker, that most people don’t have ‘em and the ones that do don’t find ‘em. I think that’s why the people you chose are the ones that matter more. They’re the ones you stay with. Choosing is more important than the tattoos the universe gives us.”

“Would you have chosen me?”

“Parker, can we concentrate on this?”

“When you answer me.”

Eliot blows out a breath, even though the one he takes in is so cold it hurts his lungs. “I don’t work with other people. I don’t work _well_ with other people. But the five of us. _We_ work. So, yeah, Parker. I would choose you. I already had.”

She moves faster than he expects, grabbing his shoulders and kissing him hard. “I choose you too.”

“Let’s work on this, huh?” Eliot gives her a small smile and gets back to it. It’s worth it, he thinks, that she did choose him, even if he’s not the one she’s chosen. It’s clear that’s Hardison. Eliot’s more of a big brother, which is a thought he tries to get rid of immediately, given that his body remembers _exactly_ how it feels to be inside her, that he’s slept with her.

Only that’s not what he’d done, his brain reminds him. Eliot focuses harder, determined that he’s getting Parker out of this alive.

“Eliot?”

“Yeah?”

“I have, um. Things. For Hardison.”

“O...kay?”

“Not thing-things. Not real things. I mean, they’re real, but not...”

“You’re together.” He’s careful to keep emotion out of his voice. She opens her mouth and then shuts it, settling for nodding as Eliot finishes fixing the rigging around Alan’s body. “I’m happy for you. So let’s get you back to him. And some hot cocoa.”

“I love hot cocoa.”

“I know.”

**

Hardison is searching online for whoever's bugging them, getting more and more frustrated as he goes. Eliot’s been running through a list with Nate, narrowing down the field of people they’ve brought down and where they are now, what reach they have. Nate rubs his eyes and shakes his head, grabbing a cup of coffee and pouring some Irish whiskey into it before heading upstairs. Eliot leans back in his chair, arching his back until it cracks then gets up. He grabs himself a beer and brings an orange soda over, setting it on Hardison’s right before clamping his cool hand on the back of Hardison’s neck.

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah. Yeah, man.” He gives Eliot a tired smile over his shoulder. “Hey, thanks.” A frown furrows in Hardison’s brown. “Eliot? You okay?”

Eliot realizes he’s tightened his grip and eases up on the back of Hardison’s neck. He gestures with his hand, and the beer in his grip is shaking slightly.

Hardison follows Eliot’s finger to the small box in the corner of the computer screen. “That? Oh, that’s one of my avatars, man. It’s the sword of...”

Eliot stops listening, stops hearing him as heat floods through him. He shakes his head roughly and jerks away. “No.”

Hardison stops mid-sentence. “No. I know. You’re right. Focus. You don’t want to hear about any of my gaming stuff.” He turns back to the screen and Eliot leaves the room as quickly as he can, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

He knows what he’ll see, but he still can’t breathe as he lifts his shirt, the thick silver line now defined in the same shape as the sword on Hardison’s computer. Eliot drops his shirt and thumps his head against the wall. “Dammit, Hardison.”

**

They’re officially between cons, though they all have their own research and prep that they’re doing. Eliot’s trying to stay out of Hardison and Parker’s way for more than just one reason. He spends his downtime at the gym or practicing with the wooden martial arts dummy he has set up in his spare room.

It’s been nearly two weeks since he’s seen the rest of the team, but he knows as soon as he walks out of the workout room that someone’s there. One of them is there. The throb in his side tells him exactly who it is. He walks into the living room, wiping the sweat from his face. Hardison is sitting on his couch, the phone he’d obviously used to disable Eliot’s security system on the seat next to him. “Hardison?”

Hardison stands up and faces Eliot, the hurt on his face sharper than what Damien Moreau had put there. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you? Tell you what?” Eliot approaches him slowly, worried about the wildness in Hardison's eyes.

“Parker.”

Eliot never thought a name could hurt so much, but then he’d never imagined it said in Alec’s broken voice. Eliot doesn’t normally think of him as Alec, but that’s clearly who’s looking at him now, stripped of Hardison’s ego and bravado.

“You’re her soul mate.”

It’s not exactly what Eliot expects, but it’s likely just the first blow. “Doesn’t matter. She wants to be with you. I’m not gonna...”

Hardison – no, still Alec – strips off his shirt and throws it at Eliot. Eliot knows what’s coming now, even before Hardison raises his arm to show Eliot the mark of a fist darker than his skin high up on his ribs.

“Did you know?”

Eliot shakes his head in answer to the question. Accusation. “A couple of weeks ago.” He raises his own arm to show Hardison the sword visible through his sweat-soaked tank top. “When I saw it. On your computer. If you’d looked at me...”

Hardison exhales and seems to deflate. “Gimme m’damn shirt.” Eliot picks it up from at his feet and tosses it to Hardison. “So let me get this straight. You’re my soul mate. You’re my girlfriend’s soul mate. But she and I aren’t...”

“You chose each other. That’s what matters. These are just the universe’s sick little jokes.”

“So you don’t believe?”

“Not anymore.”

“But Parker said you...”

Eliot sits in the chair opposite Hardison. His elbows rest on his knees, his hands hanging between his legs, his head falling forward.

“I ain’t mad.”

“You should be. She didn’t want it.”

Hardison scoffs and Eliot looks up. Hardison’s brow is furrowed. “Dude. She said, and I’m quoting here, ‘Oh. I had sex with Eliot. It was fun. He’s good at it. You should go have sex with him too. And then later I can eat popcorn and watch’.”

“That...okay. Yeah, that does sound a lot like Parker.”

“Quoting. Verbatim.”

“I didn’t know. That you two were going to like each other. Fall for each other. Not when it started. And we stopped when she told me she didn’t want it. With anyone. And I didn’t _know_ that or I wouldn’t have touched her.”

Hardison puts his head in his hands and then rubs his face. “My Nana. She called this a blessing and a curse. I’m not sure how much she believed, but she told me that having this doesn’t make you more or less or even different. Just means someone’s got a plan for you and you have to decide if you’re gonna follow it.”

“Your Nana was a smart lady, but –”

“Uh-uh. Ain’t no buts in that sentence.” He looks at Eliot then stands up, walking over to him and stopping just in front of him. Eliot looks up and he doesn’t know what Hardison sees in his face, in his eyes. But what Eliot sees makes his stomach drop. “Now. I ain’t Parker. And I don’t know if you do guys, but –”

Eliot grabs Hardison’s hand and pulls him down on top of him before he can say anything else. It’s ungainly and awkward until Eliot’s mouth finds Hardison’s and his hand slides against his ribs, feeling the mark burn his skin. It’s similar to the heat he’d felt when he’d seen the avatar on Hardison’s computer, but hotter still now that they’re touching, now that Hardison _knows_.

“Damn,” Hardison breathes against Eliot’s mouth. “I have wanted to do that for a _long_ time.”

“Talk too much.” Eliot curves his hand around the back of Hardison’s neck and pulls him into another kiss, exploring the taste of Hardison’s mouth, the pressure of his tongue. Hardison shifts and straddles Eliot, knees wedging between the sides of the chair and Eliot’s thighs. He puts his hands on Eliot’s shoulders and his palm feels twice as hot over Parker’s mark.

“So you’re cool? With dudes?”

Eliot rolls his eyes and grabs Hardison’s hips, pulling him up so he can feel the hard swell of Eliot’s cock. “I’m cool.” Cool is the opposite of what he is. He’s burning up with want and need and relief as his hands slide up and down Hardison’s sides, his hips rolling up when Hardison’s teeth nip at Eliot’s throat.

His head falls back, giving Hardison easy access to his neck. His hands settle on Hardison’s waist and he digs his nails into the thick denim of the jeans when Hardison’s teeth clamp around the tendon of his shoulder, his mouth sucking what Eliot knows will be a heavy bruise on the skin.

He moves his hands down, cupping Hardison’s ass and squeezing, feeling Hardison’s muscles clench and then relax in Eliot’s hands.

“You know.” It takes Eliot a few tries to manage the words, his voice getting caught on low moans as Hardison’s mouth wages an all-out assault on Eliot's skin.

“Know lots,” Hardison nods as he licks Eliot’s collarbone.

“’m not coming in my jeans like a damn teenager.” The last syllable breaks when Hardison pinches one of Eliot’s nipples. “I got a bed.”

Hardison’s mouth finds Eliot's again, and they both groan. It’s slick and hot and _right_ , and Eliot holds onto Hardison and stands up. Hardison slides his fingers into Eliot’s hair, and goes back to his neck, sucking dried sweat from Eliot’s skin.

He drops Hardison to the bed, a low and hot growl escaping when it causes Hardison’s fingers to snag and pull Eliot’s hair. He sinks to his knees and his hands make short work of Hardison’s belt and fly. Hardison braces himself and lifts his hips so Eliot can strip his jeans off of him, but he seems to lose what balance he has when Eliot mouths Hardison’s cock through his pale green boxers.

“Oh... God. Eliot.”

Eliot breathes and licks and sucks, catching the fabric between his teeth, the ghost of them grazing Hardison’s cock. Eliot’s tongue darts out to lick at the wet spot, putting slight pressure on the head of Hardison’s dick.

“Oh. Okay. That’s...”

Eliot kisses the spot then takes the head of Hardison’s cock in his mouth, sucking hard through the thin material.

“That’s...Eliot...” Hardison arches up and one of his hands sinks back into Eliot’s hair. He tightens his grip and tugs lightly and Eliot hums, vibrations surrounding Hardison. Eliot catches the waistband of Hardison’s boxers in his grip and pulls off of him long enough to work them to Hardison’s knees, ignoring the protests Hardison makes.

The boxers fall to the floor and Eliot moves back in, ducking his head to nuzzle the base of Hardison’s cock, the short, wiry hares that frame the dark skin of Hardison’s balls. Eliot huffs a hot breath against them, and he can see the muscles of Hardison’s thighs grow taut in reaction. Eliot sucks the skin between Hardison’s balls then takes one in his mouth, surrounding Hardison with heat and pressure that cause the tight muscles to quiver.

Eliot pulls off with a soft sound and does the same to the other before working both into his mouth. Hardison makes a few low, shivering sounds and Eliot pulls back, hard breaths falling on Hardison’s damp skin.

He moves in again before Hardison can say anything, his tongue flicking against the tight ring of muscle of Hardison’s opening. Hardison’s ass clenches, an Eliot’s low laugh is still rumbling in his chest when he moves up to take Hardison’s cock in his mouth.

Hardison’s hips rise up again, his hands seemingly unsure if they want to tug at Eliot’s hair or knead his scalp. Both make Eliot moan low in his throat as he sucks Hardison deep.

Hardison’s dick is longer than Eliot's, and not quite as thick, but it responds to every pressure Eliot applies. He sucks him to the back of his throat, letting it constrict at the touch. Pulling back, Eliot holds just the head in his mouth, his teeth beneath the ridge as he tongues at the slit, making Hardison shudder in response.

“Jesus, E-Eliot.”

Eliot closes his mouth, sucking at the head, holding it tight between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He rubs his hands over Hardison’s bare thighs, hair soft against his palms. Hardison’s hands shift in Eliot’s hair and Eliot looks up at him through wet lashes. Hardison reaches down and brushes the corner of Eliot’s mouth with his thumb. Eliot parts his lips slightly then moves in, taking Hardison deep again.

Curling one hand around the base of Hardison’s cock, Eliot starts moving, establishing a rhythm. His hand slides up as Eliot pulls back. Hardison’s skin is hot and slick, and Eliot can taste the pre-come at the back of his throat, on his tongue. Hardison’s back arches, his hips rising off the bed, trying to thrust deeper into Eliot’s mouth. Eliot catches Hardison’s balls and rubs them, rolls them between his fingers, squeezing lightly.

Hardison pants broken syllables, soft grunts falling from his lips. His hand tightens further in Eliot’s hair, tight enough to hurt _perfectly_. He tries to pull Eliot away from him as his hips start to stutter, falling out of rhythm. Eliot ignores the pressure of Hardison’s hand and takes him deeper still, sucking harder until Hardison comes, his whole body shaking, cock pulsing against Eliot’s tongue.

Eliot pulls off slowly, easing Hardison from his mouth, carefully opening his hand. Hardison shivers and slumps back on the bed. He frees his hand from Eliot’s hair, and they both watch it tremble as he lays it on his chest.

“Holy...” Hardison raises his eyes as Eliot stands up. “Damn, Eliot.”

Eliot presses the heel of his hand against his hard dick, shifting it beneath his jeans. He _aches_ , and staring down at Hardison makes it worse. He kneels on the bed, one knee between Hardison’s parted legs, and leans in. He nuzzles Hardison’s chest, the bottom of his ribcage, using his head to move Hardison’s arm out of the way so he can cover the dark mark on Hardison’s skin with his mouth.

It’s like an electric shock to Eliot’s system and his whole body shudders. Hardison’s hand presses against Eliot’s spine to hold him there, long fingers splayed across Eliot’s skin. It’s aftershock followed by aftershock, like Parker having too much fun with her taser. He can’t pull away, can’t break away from the feel of the mark against his tongue.

“D'you have... have you got...” Hardison’s voice is hoarse, like the heat they’re generating has dried out his throat. “You got stuff?”

Eliot pulls back, wondering if he looks as drugged as he feels. He stretches over Hardison and fishes condoms from his nightstand and, with just a bit more fumbling, a plastic bottle of lube.

Eliot hasn’t done this, not since Damien, and he shoves that thought down as far as it will go. He gets the condom on before lubing up his fingers, rubbing them carefully around the puckered skin of Hardison’s hole.

Hardison shivers and thrusts down toward Eliot. Eliot eases his finger past the tight muscle, though Hardison’s body is still somewhat pliant from his orgasm. Eliot works him open, one finger changing to two with Hardison’s encouragement.

Eliot’s cock is aching to the point of desperation, the edge of painful, but he keeps spreading and scissoring his fingers until Hardison is open enough for his third finger.

“God, just… God, Eliot. I need…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, groaning as Eliot's fingers slide out of him. Hardison's mouth opens, likely about to say something else, but before he can, Eliot presses the head of his cock against Hardison’s opening and pushes in slowly.

They both groan, and Eliot revels in the heat of Hardison, both new and familiar. Parker’s words echo in his head, and he can’t focus on anything but _home_ as he starts to thrust. Hardison is vocal, louder than Parker, which doesn’t surprise Eliot at all. He shouldn’t compare them, but he can’t help himself, noting the differences and the similarities. Hardison is tighter, hotter, his hands everywhere. Even though Parker is smaller and slighter, Eliot’s more careful with Hardison since, for some reason, Hardison feels more fragile.

Eliot thrusts deep, his chest against Hardison’s. When he meets Eliot's gaze, Hardison’s brown eyes are almost black, his pupils wide. Eliot kisses him like a man possessed, like a man possessing. Hardison's long fingers settle on the back of Eliot’s neck, pressure hard enough to bruise.

Eliot keeps moving, alternating between shallow, hard thrusts and long, deep ones until Hardison seems to only breathe with the push of Eliot’s hips forcing a breath out of him. Eliot’s body tenses, and he clenches his muscles together even tighter, trying to hold off his orgasm. He’s too far gone, and it hurts as his body jerks until his orgasm takes everything out of him, and he feels like he melts down against Hardison.

Hardison clears his throat a few minutes later, but his voice still sounds ragged when he speaks. “Damn.” Eliot grunts in response and Hardison huffs out a laugh. “Also you’re like eight hundred pounds of muscle, so ‘m gonna need you to get off me.”

Eliot forces himself up off Hardison though he stays buried inside him. He braces himself on his hands. “Eight hundred pounds? Seriously?”

“ _Of muscle_. Don’t be forgetting the important part in there. You know, the part that keeps you from killing me.”

“Eight hundred.” Eliot shakes his head and grabs the condom, pulling out and heading to the bathroom to dispose of it.

“ _Muscle_ ,” Hardison calls after him. “Of mus-cle.”

Eliot cleans himself up then takes a washcloth out to do the same for Hardison. He’s still sprawled out on the bed just like he’d been when Eliot left him.

“You know. Muscle. The things I don’t have because pretty much everything inside me is like Silly Putty.” Eliot smirks and Hardison rolls his eyes. “Don’t get cocky.”

This time Eliot raises an eyebrow and Hardison’s gaze drops down.

“Okay, not the best turn of phrase, but you also kind of melted my brain, man.” He looks at Eliot and frowns, lifting himself up onto his elbows. “So what happens now? What happened with Parker?”

“She poked and punched me a lot. We had sex a lot. Then things got weird, and we’re just…” He shrugs. “You guys have a thing.”

“You, but we’re not….” Hardison gestures between them.

“I don’t know. You’re the computer genius. But Parker and I are fine now. I think it means whatever you let it mean.”

“I don’t know, man.” Hardison sits up and leans against the headboard. Eliot can’t help but sweep his gaze over Hardison's body. “Have you talked to Parker about it?”

“She told me she has feelings for you.”

“But have you talked about you two.”

Eliot sighs and sits on the bed, rubbing his face with his hands. “What made you come over here?”

“Parker saw my mark.”

Eliot opens his mouth, closes it then takes a deep breath. He can almost see them undressing each other and Parker seeing it, effectively ending whatever was happening between them. “How did she see it?”

“There was this whole orange soda thing.” He looks at Eliot and his eyes go wide. “Dude. Not _that_ sort of thing.”

Eliot breathes a sigh of relief that he knows he doesn’t deserve. He runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “Wait.” His eyes open and he looks at Hardison. “Why haven’t you seen Parker’s mark?”

“I had. But, I mean, it wasn’t the same thing. Until you figured it out, right? That’s how it works. You had them waiting inside you until we were born. You had to be the one who saw it.”

“Parker’s was formed. She knew as soon as I did.”

“Yeah, well Parker’s Parker, man.”

“She definitely is.” Eliot sighs. “You’re the smart one. What are the odds of this? I mean, this doesn’t happen.”

“Not that I’ve heard of, but I’ll do some research, okay?”

“You haven’t already done it?”

“I didn’t believe it. It all sounded like something out of a TV show.”

Eliot nods “You staying for dinner?”

Hardison's eyes widen. “Can I?”

“No. I’m kicking your ass out of here.” Eliot rolls his eyes as he stands up and pulls a pair of boxers on. “What do you want to eat?”

**

He stays away from headquarters for the next week, working on things of his own and telling himself he’s not avoiding Hardison and Parker. He knows that’s a lie, but he pretends to believe it anyway. He gets a text from Hardison on Monday and goes to Nate’s apartment, relieved that there’s another con.

“Hey.” He nods to Parker and Hardison as he looks around, ingrained habits that have saved his life more than once. “Where are Nate and Sophie?”

“Out.” Parker pats the couch next to her. “Sit.”

“I'm not a damned dog, Parker.”

“You’d be a cute dog. A mutt. A rescue mutt. Treated bad by your previous owners.” She frowns.

“Is there a job?” Eliot asks to cut her off before she goes any further.

“Run it, Hardison.” Parker grins. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

Hardison smiles and moves away from his computer to sit next to Parker on the couch. “Might as well have a seat, Eliot.”

He ignores Parker patting the cushion beside her again as well as her pout as he sinks into one of the armchairs.

“So I did some research. It’s spotty, because people who find soul mates don’t always talk about it, and people who don’t have the marks use the word too. But there are enough cases that there’s some common knowledge and decent extrapolation. It’s know that the marks are just shapes until the older person realizes their soul mate. Sometimes it’s easy to tell what they’ll be, other times it’s not.”

“I thought mine was rock-paper-scissors and I just never saw the scissors.” Parker shrugs. “I always knew it was a hand, even before you saw it and it _was_.”

“Mine was always just a circle – a closed fist, I guess, but I didn’t look at it that often, since it wasn’t as visible, and I thought it was science fiction.”

There’s silence and Eliot realizes they’re waiting for him. “Yours was just a thick gray line with a point on one end. I always thought Parker’s was like a coil of rope, but I didn’t know that’s what it was until I saw her standing in one. Didn’t know yours until I saw your little picture.”

“Avatar, man. Avatar.”

“Whatever.”

“Anyway.” Parker gestures at the screens.

“Anyway,” Hardison presses the remote. “They started with stories, studied ‘em in England when Henry VIII broke with Catholicism. People who were interested in the occult thought they were talismans and people who had them were the center of a lot of rituals. Not the same kind that had them burned at the stake in the Puritan U.S., but still some bad ju-ju. The first actually documented theories of them came from the Romani tribes.”

“Wanderers,” Eliot nods. “Makes sense.”

“Storytellers, which caught people’s attention. The marks have been used as an excuse to kill a lot of people throughout history. The inquisitions. When Mary was Queen of England. Needless to say, they weren’t something you talked about. Mark of the devil and all that. Then during King George’s time they became all the rage. Having them was a status symbol, something to be proud of, to be flaunted. Of course that’s also when suicides shot up. People would kill themselves if they didn’t find their soul mates or if they did and it was someone below their station.”

“Like in that _Pride and Prejudice_ thing you made me watch? With the snotty Darcy guy?” She leans in toward Eliot. “We’d totally take him down. The soldier guy too. Sleazy.”

“Pride and...No, girl. That... there just wasn't anything else. And Darcy’s a good dude, he was just caught in the mores of his time, and–” He throws a pillow at Eliot. “Stop laughing, man. It’s _classic_ literature.”

“I thought it was boring,” Parker says.

“Yes,” Hardison says huffily. “Like that. Anyway. Some people did find their soul mates, and scientists at the time were open to finding out anything, so there’s lasting research. If you want to call it that, which I don’t, because it wasn’t experimentation or anything scientific. It was just people telling their stories.”

Eliot rolls his hand so Hardison will keep talking while he walks into the kitchen and gets a beer for himself, an orange soda for Hardison, and a chocolate milk for Parker.

“What they found out was that the older person got the mark when the younger one was born. The younger person never realized until the older one did. It never happened the first time they saw each other; it needed some sort of trigger. And the marks didn’t care about color, station, sexual preference, or age.”

Parker scrunches up her nose. “Ew.”

“But they also found out there were different kinds of soul mates. Lovers or whatever you want to call them, the typical definition of the word, which is also the most common. All those people said that when they realized it there was an overwhelming heat and then an almost painful physical desire that _needed_ to be dealt with. As um. Well. We know.” He takes a long pull from his soda, his face flushed.

“And?” Eliot prompts.

“Right. The second type was a mentor. A guardian. A teacher. Someone who was meant to guide you. These were usually younger and older people mixes. Mostly boys and men, but that’s most likely because girls weren’t given the same opportunities at the time. With those people, they said there was a coldness. Not, like, icy, but they’d shiver nonetheless. Less is known of that kind, but that started because some dudes, and women, but mostly not, were using it to, well, have sex with their students, saying that’s what their marks meant, what soul mates were. So that one got taboo real quick.”

Parker’s nose wrinkles more. “Double ew.”

“I hear ya. The third kind is friendship. That one was different because it wasn’t a sensation, really. They all described it as the world changing color for moment, everything turning sort of red. Hence the whole rose-colored glasses thing."

Eliot stares at the before and after pictures of marks that Hardison has on the screen. He sniffs. “And?”

“And, okay, so there was more research supposedly done and lost, but then science really got into it. The three recognition signs were always the same. People who didn’t meet their soul mates still managed to find love, but the divorce rates were high, because the person without the mark usually left because they didn’t believe their partner was really happy with them.”

“And then there were the people who went crazy trying to get rid of the marks,” Eliot states flatly.

“Yeah. And the suicide rate stayed about the same. And for soul mates who did find each other, well, they found out that the marks faded or disappeared when the other person died.”

“That’s dumb,” Parker snaps.

“The stronger the connection, the less likely the marks would disappear completely.” Hardison pauses, careful not to look at Eliot. “There were also a lot of suicides when the marks ended up on same-sex partners. A lot of them just claimed friendship and did their thing, but a bunch didn’t. Just freaked.”

“I’m not freaking, Hardison.”

“Yeah, and I’m not sure why.”

“Eliot’s slept with guys before. Duh. He’s bisexual. Or pansexual. Or omnisexual. Would you have sex with an alien, Eliot?” Parker’s eyes narrow. “ _Have_ you had sex with an alien?”

“No, Parker.” Eliot sighs. “Bisexual if you gotta label it.”

“See?” Parker smiles smugly at Hardison. “But I bet he has slept with an alien. A boy alien or a girl alien. Or was the alien both?”

“Can we just…” Eliot glares at them both.

“Right.” Hardison clears his throat. “It was in the sixties when the free love movement got big that people started admitting to multiple marks. They existed before, there’s spotty documentation of that, but it started being an okay thing then.” He stops to drink more soda, but Eliot recognizes it for the stall it is. Before he can say anything though, Hardison starts talking again.

“Anyway, there’s tons of famous examples of soul mates. Bogie and Bacall. Taylor and Burton, Hepburn and Tracy, Burns and Allen, Astaire and Rogers. Mentors like Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat, Maya Angelou and Oprah, Emerson and Thoreau. They think Socrates and Plato. Obi-Wan and Anakin. Harry and Dumbledore, though that one’s a little messed up…”

“Hardison.” Eliot manages to keep most of the annoyance out of his voice, but he knows he doesn’t completely succeed.

“Okay, okay. The only examples I could find of people with actual multiple soul mates who found both of them were when one died and then they found the other. Doesn’t mean there _aren’t_ concurrent ones. Polyamory and all that, but nobody talks about it.”

“Maybe all those Mormons.”

“No, that’s a religion thing. Or a creepy thing,” Hardison tells Parker. “Both.”

“Does that make us creepy?”

“No.” Hardison puts his arm around Parker and hugs her.

“So what’s the point?” Eliot asks. They both look at him and he returns their gaze. “Doesn’t answer any of our questions.” When they both just keep looking at him, he blows out a frustrated breath. “Parker’s my soul mate. We got all that out of our system, even before I figured out she wouldn't have done it if she had a choice. You’re my soul mate and we have to – what? - have sex a couple more times before we’re good? You guys are a thing. You said it yourself, people who have the marks can be happy with someone they’re not soul mates with. You guys are good.”

“I wanted to have sex with you.”

Eliot shakes his head. “That’s not what I said, Parker. Look, we’re a team. The five of us. I don’t need anything else, It’s not a relationship. It’s a compulsion. What you guys are building is real.”

Parker frowns at Eliot and then at Hardison. “They say we’re supposed to be together. There’s _science_.”

“There’s hearsay and theory, Parker. Since we stopped, have you... I don't know. Thought about me? Being with me?”

Her frown deepens and Eliot smiles and shakes his head. “I’ll see you guys later.” He leaves the loft and heads directly to a bar. He does most of his drinking at McRory’s because he knows the people there, and he feels safer there. Not safe. Never safe. But safer. Sometimes though, he needs to be somewhere else, someone else. Now is definitely one of those times.

He usually goes to hotel bars, because he’s not looking for someone so much as something, and that’s the best place for it. Impermanence and loneliness. Guys are usually more risky in a place like this, but Eliot’s good at catching people looking at him, at telling the difference between sizing him up as a potential threat or a potential bedmate.

Hardison is still fresh in his mind, so he doesn’t even look at any of the men. He sits at the bar and surveys the room, and it doesn’t take long before a redhead approaches him. He doesn’t like to admit, even to himself, that he’s sharply grateful she’s not a blonde.

She slides on the stool next to Eliot. He picks up the beer the bartender sets beside his elbow and salutes her with it. “Ma’am.”

“That’s a dangerous word.”

“Not if you’re a gentleman.”

“Are you?”

Eliot smiles and takes a drink. “Sometimes.” He turns his stool, angling toward her as she sits beside him. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Bourbon, neat.”

He signals the bartender back over to get her drink. She holds her glass up and he taps his bottle against it. “What’s your name, Mr. Sometimes a Gentleman?”

“Brett.”

“I’m Angela. Finish your beer, Brett.” She swallows the three fingers of liquid easily. Sliding off the stool, she leans in close, her breath warm on his skin. “Room 764. Don’t make me wait long.”

**

“You coming over to watch the game?” Hardison doesn’t look up from his computer as Eliot walks into the main room. “Or are you still avoiding me?”

“I'm not avoiding you. I don’t _avoid_.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes you do,” Parker climbs over the back of the chair and sits down with a little bounce, not spilling a single kernel of popcorn from her bowl.

“I do not.” He sits down on the chair and glares at her. “Did you make that in the microwave?”

“I had to. You weren’t here because you're avoiding us, so you couldn't make popcorn for me.”

“I wasn’t av—I was at _home_ where I live when I’m not here.”

“Avoiding us.”

“Why do I even bother? Seriously. Someone explain it to me.”

“Glutton for punishment?” Sophie settles next to Hardison at the table. “It fits your whole role. Hitter.” She makes a fist and punches the air in front of her. “Besides, you have been a bit absent lately, Eliot. Found some new lovely lady?”

He feels his cheeks heat up. “No. Lovely ladies, present company excluded, don’t really fit in with the life I live.”

“Ah, yes. A classic excuse for the love ‘em and leave ‘em type.”

It hits a little too close to home for Eliot, but he’s careful not to let it show. Sophie can’t really see him or his expression so he just shrugs.

“He doesn’t leave ‘em. He fixes them breakfast and then they leave. I think it’s because he makes them weird things.”

“They’re not weird, Parker.”

“But they don’t come back. I bet if you fixed them waffles they’d come back.”

“Can we _please_ talk about the case?” Eliot manages through gritted teeth.

“Just waiting on Nate,” Hardison says. “So, you coming over for the game?”

“Dammit, Hardison.”

“Okay.” Nate claps his hands as he walks into the loft. “Everybody ready?”

**

Eliot's beginning to think that maybe all of his concussions are hitting him at once, because it _has_ to be some sort of brain damage that has him knocking on Hardison's door on Saturday. Hardison takes his time, and finally opens the door in pajama pants, a t-shirt, a ratty robe with a Starfleet logo on it, and a sleep mask pulled up on his head.

“What? Damn. What time is it?”

Eliot stares at him, wondering at what point he started recognizing the Starfleet logo. “Eleven.”

“In the morning?” Hardison blinks at him a few times. “Eliot?”

“Yeah.” He holds up a bag in one and and two six-packs in the other. “The game?”

“I was up until six this morning with the new expansion. Saturdays are for sleep. Games are on Sunday.”

“Not college.” Eliot brushes past him and heads for the kitchen. Even minimal contact makes him flush, so he opens the refrigerator for the cool air, moves around at least ten bottles of orange soda so he can fit the beer and the bag inside. When he turns around, Hardison is standing there staring at him. “What?”

“I just didn’t think you’d come.”

“I told you I wasn’t avoiding you. We’re friends. Friends drink beer, watch football, grill steaks and kick back with each other.”

“On Saturdays.”

“It’s been known to happen.” He waves in the direction of Hardison’s living room. “Your TV is working right? Because the Alabama game starts in about twenty minutes, and –”

He’s cut off as Hardison takes a couple of fast steps forward and grabs Eliot’s shoulders, pushing him back against the fridge. It’s shock more than anything that keeps Eliot from defending himself or retaliating. Instead he just stands there, the heat of Hardison’s hands seeping through his t-shirt.

“Hope you’ve got your damn TiVo going, man,” Hardison murmurs as his mouth finds Eliot's, his tongue pushing past his lips. Eliot doesn’t even put up a token protest, too busy finding Hardison’s hips with his hands and pulling him closer. “Eliot,” Hardison groans roughly before catching Eliot’s tongue and sucking on it.

Eliot shifts his legs apart as Hardison’s knee slips between them, their height difference giving Eliot the firm plane of Hardison’s thigh to thrust against. Hardison's head drops back for a moment, then he reaches behind him, grabbing his shirt by the collar and tugging it over his head. Eliot’s not sure when Hardison lost the robe, doesn’t care as he scrapes his teeth over Hardison's nipple, his hands sliding over exposed skin.

Hardison shifts his thigh so it presses more firmly against Eliot’s cock, keeping him trapped against the fridge so he can’t thrust. Eliot wraps his arms around Hardison and spreads his hands across his back to hold him closer. Eliot’s mouth keeps moving over Hardison’s skin, too hungry and too desperate to stop.

“C’mon. C’mon, Eliot.” Hardison catches Eliot's chin and lifts his face, taking his lower lip between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, letting it all melt into a kiss. “Bed. Need you. Need you in my bed.”

Hardison’s long strides force Eliot to walk fast to keep up, but it’s not too far to Hardison’s bedroom. Hardison jerks him inside and pins Eliot to the open door. He holds his gaze as he reaches down, opening Eliot’s jeans and sliding a hand inside.

Hardison’s long fingers wrap around Eliot, palm dry and hot. Eliot groans, reaching out and grabbing the door handle as Hardison starts to stroke him.

“Feels as good in my hand as it felt inside me.” Hardison’s voice is low and breathy in Eliot’s ear. “Done this to myself so many times thinking about you, being pinned underneath you, thinking about your dick buried inside me.” Eliot manages a choked off groan that Hardison ignores. “Or maybe you wanna ride me. Maybe you want to be pinned down.” He squeezes Eliot’s cock then slides his tight first toward the head. “Been waiting for this. For you. Goin’ out of my mind, man.”

Eliot’s short fingernails dig into Hardison’s back and he presses his head to Hardison’s shoulder, biting his own lower lip until he can taste blood. Every muscle is like coiled wire, stretched too tight and ready to snap.

Hardison leans down and bites Eliot’s shoulder hard, then is voice is back in Eliot’s ear. “Let me.”

“Yes. Jesus,” Eliot gasps. “Yes. Please. Yes.”

Hardison’s hand tightens and moves faster, jerking Eliot off hard. Eliot pants roughly against Hardison’s chest until he stills with a soundless cry buried against Hardison’s skin as his body trembles and jerks, come spilling on his clothes, in Hardison’s hand. He has a death grip on the door handle. He tries to let go, but Hardison’s hand moves on him again and Eliot’s sure his knees are going to buckle.

“Hey. I got you.” Hardison moves to Eliot’s side and wraps his arm around him. Instead of his waist, his hand finds Eliot’s rib cage and another bolt of heat surges through Eliot, and only the doorknob stops him from going down.

Hardison gets him over to the bed, sitting Eliot down. Eliot tries to grumble that he looks ridiculous, but his eyes are focused on the hard outline of Hardison’s cock in his pajama pants, the dark stain of wet on the fabric.

“Not my fault you wear so many damn layers,” Hardison works Eliot’s boots off while Eliot manages to strip off his two shirts. Hardison tugs Eliot’s jeans and boxers off, dragging his socks with them. Hardison stands up and looks at Eliot, eyes hot as they roam over him. “Good goddamn.”

“Hardison.” It’s supposed to be a growl, but it sounds a lot more like a plea.

“You done this before?”

“Jesus. Just.” Eliot turns over and crawls up the bed on his hands and knees. Hardison makes a sound and then his hands stroke Eliot’s ass, both of them rubbing over it.

“Damn, Eliot.”

“You said that,” he manages through gritted teeth as he grabs one of Hardison’s pillows and wraps his arms around it. He can’t help but push back into Hardison’s touch, barely keeping his low moan from slipping out. “Would you just...”

“Be quiet and let me touch you,” Hardison says, and Eliot does what he’s told. He’s surprised Hardison doesn’t say anything at that, but then Hardison’s long fingers spread, rubbing and squeezing Eliot’s ass.

He feels the bed dip as Hardison kneels behind him on the mattress. His hands slip lower, his thumbs brushing along the crevasse before guiding Eliot open. Eliot buries a sound in Hardison’s pillow and his chest is painfully tight with want, with anticipation. “C’mon, Hardison.”

It’s not quite begging, but Hardison’s low chuckle makes it seem like it might have sounded that way. Eliot’s about to say something else when Hardison laughs again, the sound wrapped in a warm breath against Eliot’s opening.

Eliot sucks in a breath, but he can’t hold it, can’t stop it shuddering out of him when the Hardison’s breath is replaced with his tongue. He traces Eliot’s hole, the flat of his tongue sliding across it before he brings just the tip against the puckered skin. He switches between the two with no pattern, no rhythm so Eliot doesn’t know what to expect or when. He can feel the tremors echoing through his muscles with every lick, every tease.

There’s no way he can talk or ask or beg. All of his higher functions have short-circuited, possibly from the jolt that goes up his spine as the firm tip of Hardison’s tongue penetrates him. Eliot makes a sound that’s somewhere between a moan and complete surrender. Hardison’s hands and thumbs still hold Eliot open as his tongue pushes deeper, licking inside.

Eliot thrusts back, desperate for more. Hardison goes deeper, flattening it, the sides pressing it against the sensitive skin. Eliot can feel sweat pooling in the small of his back, can feel the slow slide of saliva down his perineum to his balls. He shivers at the sensation, and his hips press back, wanting more.

Hardison’s mouth closes over him, hot suction as his tongue keeps moving. Eliot’s shaking in earnest now, every nerve ending feeling exposed to Hardison’s tongue. Eliot’s back arches and he lifts his head, damp hair falling around his face. He’s talking, making noise with nonsense syllables as Hardison doesn’t stop, driving Eliot to his breaking point. He manages something that’s definitely begging, but he’s not sure it’s audible until Hardison pulls away and everything is suddenly cold.

“I got you,” Hardison assures him, his dick rubbing along the crack of Eliot’s ass as he stretches over him, reaching in his drawer for lube and condoms. He puts the condom on with one hand, while his other hand rests near Eliot’s opening. Hardison’s thumb presses inside Eliot, spreading him open, and his whole body jerks.

“Now,” Eliot feels like it comes from wherever the piece of Hardison’s soul is kept inside him, and Hardison groans roughly. His thumb is deeper and then it’s gone, the blunt head of Hardison’s cock replacing it.

Eliot pushes back as Hardison presses inside him. They groan in unison and Hardison keeps moving until he’s fully sheathed inside Eliot. After that, he stills. His breath fans against Eliot’s neck as Hardison leans forward, bracing himself over Eliot. “You. Damn.” He presses his forehead against the back of Eliot’s head.

“Now,” Eliot whispers. “Please.”

“Yeah.” Hardison pulls back, the hard press of his hips disappearing along with the thickness of his cock. Eliot groans as Hardison draws out until just the tip of his cock is inside Eliot, the sound stretching out as Hardison pushes back in deep. They start moving together, their bodies sliding, slick with sweat. Hardison stays bent over Eliot, moving against him. His hips push forward as Eliot’s push back.

He gains speed and momentum, then shifts back and straightens, moving his hands to Eliot’s hips. They move together like they’re made for each other. Eliot’s mind reminds him that they are, and the mark on his side burns. Hardison’s rough breath falls down on Eliot, and Eliot buries his face in the pillow as he goes down onto his elbows. He arches his back again, and Hardison moans low at the shift of angle, of pressure.

Eliot can tell Hardison is close as his hips stutter, as his breathing falters. Eliot tightens around him and gets a hot groan in response. He relaxes, about to repeat the motion when Hardison’s hand slides up from his hips to his ribs, fingers brushing over Eliot’s mark.

Eliot’s eyes snap open and he bites the pillow to stay silent. Hardison gasps and shudders, still thrusting hard, fast and deep until he suddenly stops, cock pulsing inside Eliot as he comes.

Eliot jerks as Hardison pulls out of him, and he’d forgotten the empty hollow feeling it leaves behind. He shifts and lies on the bed on his back, his half-hard cock resting against the top of his thigh. Hardison comes back and stretches out next to Eliot, both of them staring at the ceiling.

“You know,” Eliot starts then pauses to clear his throat. “I don’t have a TiVo.”

“How do you not have a TiVo?” Hardison turns his head to look at Eliot. His breathing is still slightly erratic, like he still hasn’t managed to catch his breath. “And why the hell are you bringing it up now?”

“Because I missed the Alabama game.”

“You... Oh, hell no. You are _not_ bitching about missing a football game, because I just rocked your damn world, and...” Hardison jabs his elbow into Eliot. “Stop smiling at me.”

“Luckily the Sooners play in a half hour.”

**

Eliot finishes drying and putting away the last dish when he feels the air shift. He knows when he turns around Parker will be sitting cross-legged on the kitchen island. It’s been awhile since she’s broken in, so it’s something of a surprise. “I’m not avoiding you, Parker.”

“Can we have ice cream? Only not the weird ones you have sometimes. Chocolate.”

He turns around to face her and shrugs. “I’ve got blackberry sorbet.”

“Do you have chocolate syrup I could pour on it?”

“How about popcorn?”

“Do you have chocolate syrup I can pour on it?”

Eliot goes over to the corner cabinet and takes out a jar. He faces Parker to judge her mood then puts his hand inside and watches her face as he pulls something out. He sets it back in the cabinet and walks over to her, standing right in front of her. “Hold out your hands.”

She eyes him suspiciously for a moment and then does. Eliot lets the handful of brightly wrapped chocolates fall into her palms. Parker squeaks in delight and opens one quickly, shoving it into her mouth. Eliot gave up trying to teach Parker to savor chocolate a long time ago.

She wolfs her way through three pieces then bats her eyelashes at him. He laughs and gets the milk out of the fridge, pouring her a full glass. Parker gulps down half of it and sighs happily.

“You okay now?”

She unwraps another chocolate and puts it in her mouth. This time she sucks on it, letting it melt on her tongue and, when she speaks, her voice is thick with it. “Need to talk to you.”

“I don’t do talking.”

“You...” She takes another drink of milk. “You just have to listen.”

“Not good at that either.”

“You shouldn’t lie.” Eliot can only imagine how incredulous he looks when she shrugs and amends herself. “To us. To the team. And you’re a good listener, so I need you to listen.”

Eliot sighs. “Are we doing this in the kitchen?”

She looks longingly at the cabinet with the candy jar, then shakes her head. “Living room.” He turns to go, but she stops him with a hand on his shoulder. It’s the one without the mark, so he doesn’t react except to stop. “Piggyback ride.”

“Seriously?” He looks at her and rolls his eyes before turning around so she can climb on his back. He’s grateful that she doesn’t touch the mark, since having her so close while he’s on on the job and distracted is already a lot to handle. He drops her on the couch and listens to her giggle as he goes over to the chair across from her. “Okay. What are we talking about?”

“Hardison told me something and it made me less confused about something, but I’m still confused, so he said I had to talk to you. It’s kind of neat being in a soul mate triangle.”

“Except you two gang up on me.”

“We’d do that anyway.”

Eliot nods in concession. “Am I gonna need a beer for this?”

“Is this one of those rhetorical questions? Or is it real?”

“Definitely a beer. You want one?”

“Sure.”

Eliot goes back to the kitchen and gets one for each of them, handing Parker hers before he settles back down in his chair. “Okay. You talk. I listen.”

Parker nods then frowns down at the beer in her hands before setting it on one of the coasters on the coffee table. “You asked me a question about you a while ago, and I think I answered it wrong. Or you understood wrong.” She looks at her hands then back at him. Eliot stays silent, knowing if he says anything this will be harder for her. “I haven’t had sex with Hardison yet.”

Eliot coughs around his drink of beer, clearing his throat as he sets the bottle down.

“And I want to, but I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” He can’t help but ask the question, but he keeps his voice light. He knows fear far too well.

“Because I’ve only been with you, and you don’t like that anymore. And I’m not sure what I did to make you stop, because I don’t like that it stopped.”

“It’ll be different with him, Parker. You have feelings for him. Real feelings.”

She frowns. “I thought fake feelings were just for cons. And feelings that aren’t for cons are real feelings.”

“Sometimes, even when you’re not on a con, you have things you think you’re feeling, but you’re not. Not really.”

“So maybe I don’t want to have sex with Hardison?”

“No.”

She just looks more confused. “But I’m not good at it.”

“You are.” It’s too much like an oath, and Eliot can only hope she doesn’t hear it in his voice. “You are.”

“So why don’t you want me anymore?”

Eliot’s quiet for several minutes, feeling the heavy weight of her stare. He doesn’t like talking, but he likes her, and he’ll do it for her. “I asked you once, and you said you never wanted it.” She blinks at him, a total lack of comprehension in her expression. “We slept together. Had sex. And you never wanted it.”

“Oh! Oh! That’s what’s wrong? That I didn’t want it?”

She sounds so relieved that Eliot feels sick to his stomach. “Parker, if we had sex and you didn’t want it that means I –”

“I never want it. But not with you. With other people. That’s why I never did. But you’re different. You’re not them. You’re not other people. You’re you. You’re Eliot.”

“You only had sex with me because you thought you had to.”

“I like having sex with you. You’re very good at it.”

“You’re not even attracted to me. I asked you.”

“Sophie’s right. Boys are dumb.” Parker gets up and moves to Eliot’s chair, sitting on the arm of it so her thigh rests against him, but they’re not looking at each other. “You’ve made women want to sleep with you right? By being all sexy and singing and mysterious and all ‘darlin’-ing.” She does a horrific southern accent. “All seduce-y and stuff.”

“That’s not –“ He squeezes the bridge of his nose with his fingers. ”I wouldn’t put it that way, but sure.”

“So even if they don’t know they want you, you get them to want you. Or to know they want you.” He sees her nod out of the corner of his eye. “Did you ever have to do that with me?”

“No. But the marks –”

She keeps interrupting him. “You can say no to me.”

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “It’s hard, but I can.”

“So why do you think I can’t say no to you?”

It takes him a moment, but he manages a response. “You don’t have the best sense of emotional self-preservation.”

“Dumb and stubborn.” She moves and suddenly she’s sitting in his lap, staring at him intently. “You know when I’m telling the truth, right?”

“Most of the time.”

“Eliot.” Her voice is soft and firm, her gaze is unwavering. “You did not seduce me. You did not coerce me. You did not con me. You did not take advantage of me.” She reaches up and cups his cheeks with both hands. Her touch is gentle, but it’s clear she has no intention of letting him look away. “Eliot. You didn’t rape me.”

He cuts his eyes away from her, but she turns his head so he’s looking at her again.

“You didn’t, Eliot. I grew up in the system. I know what it is. I know what it looks like. That’s not what you did. Not what we did. Eliot, I never wanted to. Not until you.”

Neither of them moves, and Eliot’s not sure they’re breathing. His chest feels tight, which might mean he’s not.

“And Hardison said you’re not allowed to do some ‘aw shucks, ma’am’ thing. I didn’t understand that, but don’t do it. He said he’d know.” She sits there, completely still for a long time, and he knows that she can keep it up for days just like he can. It’s not intentional on his part. His brain is busy resetting itself.

Parker puts her hands on his shoulders, thumbs sliding under the straps of his tank top, unerringly finding its mark. “I’ve missed you, Eliot. You keep taking yourself away from me, and it makes me miss you so much.”

Eliot’s hand settles on her face, the heel of it just behind her ear, his fingers in her hair. “Missed you too. But I can’t just... I’ve thought that way, that you felt that way, for a while now, and I can’t just pretend that I didn’t or pretend that’s not my first thought. My first response. So.” He pulls her forward gently and rests their foreheads together for a long moment before pulling back and kissing the tip of her nose. “You want to watch a movie?”

“Do you have any cartoons?”

**

They fall into a routine, the three of them. Whenever they’re not on a con, Parker and Hardison spend their time together. At least once a week, one or both of them show up at his doorstep demanding food or movies, more often than not both. If Hardison stays the night, they end up having sex. With Parker, they lie together and look at each other, making ridiculous faces and trying to make each other laugh. Neither of them sleep much, and when they do, they tend not to do it at the same time.

If both of them stay, they all end up in Eliot’s bed together, and Eliot spends his time trying to sleep between Hardison's imitation of a starfish and Parker’s little snort-snores. He’s always in the middle, which means he’s not going to sleep much anyway, but they always seem to out-maneuver him anytime he tries to work one of them there.

They tend to get separated on jobs, with Eliot either in the middle of it while they’re on the edges or vice versa. When they work on finding Geoffrey’s chip, he’s completely on the outskirts of the con dealing with Molly. She’s a good kid, and Eliot knows what it’s like to feeling lonely, to not liking yourself. He makes it his job to build her confidence and, as much as he protests, he’s actually okay going to the carnival with her and letting her show off all the tricks he’s taught her.

He’s less okay with the fact that he lets Hardison and Parker’s arguing distract him, when Molly disappears. He doesn’t panic because he _doesn’t_ panic, but he still feels relief flood through him when she starts talking in the ear bud he gave her. He’s not going to let anyone die on him. Because that’s not what he does either.

When the ride hits him, he doesn’t have a chance to brace himself or react. It’s just there and there are some things even his body can’t beat. A couple hundred pounds of metal with momentum is one of them.

When he comes to, he can hear everyone talking, voices swimming in his head to match the waviness of his vision. He doesn’t think about the team or the Russians or anything but Molly. She’s his responsibility and he’s not letting her down. He’s made a vow to himself that he’s not letting anyone down again. Thankfully she’s a smart kid and gets him to her, and it’s only sheer willpower and years of honing all his senses that gets him through the fight.

Walking Molly out of the house of mirrors and out to her dad feels a lot like his ribs aren’t actually connected to anything, rattling around inside his chest. His whole body aches, and all he really wants is to sleep for a week. He tells Nate as much on the ride to the bar. He knows Parker and Hardison are listening even though they’re in the front of the van and he’s careful to keep his voice down.

“How long,” Nate asks quietly. “Honestly.”

“At least a week. Probably more like two.” Nate purses his lips, his stare locked on Eliot. Eliot exhales. “Definitely two. Maybe three.”

“Two.” Nate nods. “And then we reevaluate.”

“He should go to a hospital,” Sophie says. Again. Eliot and Nate have been ignoring her. “You could have been killed.”

“I’m fine.”

“You just admitted to Nate that you needed at least two weeks. That’s a full body cast and a year of physical therapy for most people. It’s a _lifetime_ for you.”

“Sophie, I’m fine.” He’s not sure how convincing he is with his eyes closed and his body slumped as it lists in Nate’s direction. She drops it though and turns her glare to Nate.

When they get to the bar, Nate and Hardison walk on either side of him as they go in. He sits down as soon as he can. Parker keeps looking at him through narrowed eyes until Hardison catches her attention with his damn Parker robot. He fires off a text and waits, careful not to watch the two of them together. He’s told them and, more importantly, sworn to himself, that he won’t get in the way of the thing they’re building.

Gail shows up and he can feel Parker’s gaze burning into him as he walks away. Gail’s grip around his waist is strong, but situated just right to keep from hurting him. “The blonde’s probably gonna kill me in my sleep, isn’t she.”

“You could probably take her.”

“I took you down plenty of times. I remember you, all fresh from the backwaters of Kentucky, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“You were a dick then, and you’re a dick now.”

“Mm. Just without one these days.” She smiles as she gets him into her truck. “You really were a cute little hayseed.”

“I’m not afraid to hit a woman.”

“No, just too much of a gentleman. Tell me where I’m going.”

Eliot leans back against the seat, arm wrapped around his waist. He closes his eyes again, giving her directions. She reaches over and rubs the back of his neck. They get to his place and inside, and she settles him on one of the stools at his kitchen counter.

“Can you get the shirt off, or do I need to cut it?”

“Help me take it off.” Eliot winces at the movement, pain blossoming inside.

“How many ribs.”

“Two broken, three cracked, I think.”

“You need a new hobby.” Her hands are cool on Eliot’s skin, steady and sure. Eliot hisses as she presses on one of the broken ribs. “And a new job.” She walks around him, carefully assessing. “I assume this pays well.”

“It has its perks.”

“The blonde one of ‘em?” She moves out Eliot’s reach, but he still nails her with a glare. “Where’s your kit, cowboy?”

“Under the bathroom sink.” Eliot hisses as he straightens one of his legs, trying to offset the stiffness that’s setting in. Gail comes back in with his first aid kit and sets it on the counter.

“There’s a reason you wanted them to think I’m kissing these to make them better rather than actually bandaging them up? I’m fairly certain they know you’re not invincible.”

“They’ll try to help. That never goes well. I usually end up with a few extra bruises.”

“Mm-hm. The younger two, I’m assuming.”

“What?”

She traces Hardison's mark, stopping in the middle of wrapping his ribs to do so. At the same time she nods at his shoulder. Eliot does his best not to flinch at the touch. “These are both done. And I saw the way you looked at them. Do they know?”

“At least if you were kissing everything better, you’d be quiet.”

“Spencer, babe, if I kissed you right now, you’d fall over. You’re having enough trouble staying upright and I’m holding on to you.”

“You could just stop talking.”

“Hey, just because your Friday night sucks, doesn’t mean mine has to.” She carefully places the metal clips to the Ace bandage covering the tape over his ribs. “I mean, no offense, but this isn’t the kind of good time you usually offer.” Eliot ignores her as she packs up the kit. She stores it back away in the bathroom as he stands carefully, holding onto the counter for support. “Drugs or alcohol?” She rattles the bottle of pain pills at him. “I can’t actually stick around so you need to decide how much pain you want to be in versus how compromised you want to be.”

“One pill.”

She nods and shakes one out of the bottle. She hands it to him as she walks by to go into the kitchen to fill a glass of water. “Bed or couch?”

He’ll definitely hurt more getting up from the bed than from reclining on the couch, but he’ll sleep better in the bed. “Bed.”

“Okay. Drink your water, brush your teeth like a good boy, and nurse Gail will tuck you in.”

Eliot bares his teeth, but she just laughs at him. He drinks and brushes and shuts the door in her face despite the fact that even _peeing_ takes more balance than he really has. She helps him to bed and sits on the edge of it, actually tucking him in despite the glare he’s giving her. “All kidding aside, Eliot. Are you alright?”

“I’m not actively bleeding, so I’ve had worse.”

“You know that’s not actually a good answer.”

He gives her a smile that’s more of a quick curve at the corner of his mouth. “I’m okay.”

“Will one of them stop by in a couple of hours? You have a concussion.” Hardison’s mark is covered, so she brushes her fingers over Parker’s.

“They don’t listen when I tell them to stay away, and I didn’t actually say it this time.”

“And am I going to be on the receiving end of some retaliation for this?”

He sighs softly. “They’re in love with each other. You’ll be fine.”

Gail’s eyebrows go up. “Jesus. Never do anything by halves, do you, Spencer?” She kisses his forehead. “Go to sleep, you beautiful mess of a man. And next time you call me, try to be in good enough shape for at least a little fun.”

**

Parker doesn’t smell like anything. She’s absent of smell, because you don’t leave a clue. You don’t leave a trail. If he had to describe her, he’d say she smells like a breath of fresh air that takes you by surprise. He knows she’s beside him before he opens his eyes because he can’t smell her. He looks up at her. He’d bet that, if he looked at the clock, it’d be exactly two hours after Gail left.

“I’m fine, Parker.”

“You got hit in the face with a ride.” She pulls a distorted and deformed stuffed animal that she likely stole from one of the crane games out from behind her back. “You deserve a prize.”

“I don’t want that thing anywhere near me.”

She looks down at it, shrugs, and throws it over her shoulder, which sends it directly through his open window. “Your girlfriend left. You don’t normally have sex that quick.”

“There are so many things wrong with that sentence, I don’t know where to start.” He closes his eyes again. She’s silent, but he knows she hasn’t left, hasn’t moved. After a minute he feels a soft shift in the air, and her fingers graze across his cheek. There’s a bruise and a scrape, and he feels her heat even though she barely makes contact.

He licks his lips and then her mouth is on his. It’s a slow, soft, chaste kiss, her lips dry against his. He can’t help the sigh that follows; even the faintest taste of her is intoxicating. “Eliot.” She says his name softly, and he’s not sure if it’s a statement or a question or something else entirely. He opens his eyes and she’s braced over him, her hair falling like a curtain around them. She’s looking down at him and he swallows hard as he realizes she’s waiting. For him.

He reaches up and catches her hair with his finger, tucking it behind her ear. “Hey.”

She lowers her head and breathes against his mouth. “Say yes.”

Eliot nods. “Yes.”

She kisses him, slow and exploring, hot and thorough. She’s too damn smart, doing this when he’s pretty much helpless so it’s clear that this is all her – her decision, what she wants. Eliot brushes his palm against her hair, petting her as she kisses him. She peppers him with soft quick kisses, followed by longer wants that heat Eliot up.

He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until she stops, still braced above him. She’s breathing heavily, her chest brushing his with every breath. His body feels like he has a thousand tiny sparks that want to turn into a wildfire. He wants her, but he’s incapacitated to the point where he can’t have her. She pulls away from him and strips out of her clothes. He can see her pale skin, her hard nipples.

“You’re killing me, Parker.”

She looks down at him and smiles, crawling up close. She grabs the headboard and straddles him, knees on each side of his head on the pillow. Eliot breathes her in and he doesn’t understand how she doesn’t have a smell, but her heat does. He’s overloaded with it as he inhales her, licking at the damp skin that frames her clit, that he can part with his tongue so that he can drink her in.

He doesn’t – can’t – really move his arms, so he can’t hold her. All he can do is lick and suck and nibble, thrust his tongue inside her, bury his nose against her so that when he pulls back, his face is wet with her. Her thighs quiver on either side of him, and he can hear the protests of the headboard each time she shifts or tightens her grip.

Eliot catches her clit between his teeth, sucking hard at it as his tongue lashes at it again and again. He feels her come against his chin, sliding down his throat. He wants to grab her and hold her so tight against him he can’t breathe, until his lungs are filled with her, until the universe consists of nothing but her.

Parker’s breath hitches as she hits the edge of another orgasm, and Eliot shifts his head so his tongue thrusts inside her to meet it, and the taste of her coats him, floods his mouth. She stutters through a weaker third orgasm and the aftershocks as Eliot’s tongue keeps moving over her. Licking her clean, keeping her wet. Her body jerks with a few hard breaths, and then she moves off of him, sitting – collapsing – beside his shoulder.

Eliot licks his lips, still chasing the taste of her, water to a man lost in the desert for too long. She blows out a shaky breath and leans back against the headboard. He can see the ghost of her grin as the wood squeaks again. “Let’s never stop doing that again, okay?”

Eliot laughs then groans as it pulls at his ribs. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Does she know you can do that when you’re like this?”

“Not quite like that.”

“And she still _left_?”

Eliot’s chuckle rumbles in his throat and doesn’t hurt much at all. “Stay the night, Parker.”

**

The day they pull Hardison from the grave is the first time. Parker doesn’t leave Hardison’s side from the cemetery to the loft to when they leave to go to Hardison’s place on the next floor up. Eliot holds Hardison for several minutes in a hug tight enough that he knows Hardison can feel the burning heat of his mark. Hardison gives him a watery laugh. “Yeah, man. Yeah.”

Eliot drives home, and it’s honestly the only time he wishes things were different, wishes that he didn’t have to wait his turn to prove to himself that Hardison is here. Real. Alive. He cracks open a beer as soon as he gets home, making himself sip it, refusing to give in to the impulses to drink the day out of his mind. He strips down to his boxers and sits on the couch, closing his eyes and tracing Hardison’s mark with his fingers, following the sharp lines of it.

The knock at the door actually startles him. No one has knocked on the door since he almost made a couple of Girl Scouts cry when he’d opened it, and ended up with thirty boxes of cookies just to make them stop looking at him like that. He hadn’t had a solicitor – grade school or otherwise – since then, and certainly not at night.

The doorknob turns and Eliot sighs, getting up to open it. “What the hell, Parker. Why aren’t you with Hardison?” He swings the door open and any other words die on his lips. He realizes he shouldn’t be surprised, because why the hell would Parker come in his front door.

Parker and Hardison are standing there on the doorstep. Hardison is looking at Eliot with wide eyes that show too much white, like a frightened animal. “Please.”

Eliot grabs him and pulls him inside, but Hardison turns the hug into a kiss, and Eliot curves his hand around the back of Hardison’s head, and he can taste Hardison’s fear and anxiety and relief mixed with his own.

“Don’t ever do that again.” Eliot’s words are either a promise or a threat. He’s not sure which.

“The buried alive thing or the kissing you thing? Because the kissing you thing was really good. I approve of it.” Hardison grabs Parker’s wrist before she finishes talking and pulls her into the hug. She snuggles close before going up on her toes and kissing Hardison slow and deep. Eliot’s stomach drops and, instead of jealousy, all he can think of is how beautiful they are together, and wonder if they’d ever let him watch.

The thoughts derail when Parker breaks their kiss and turns her head, finding Eliot’s mouth this time. When she pulls away and drops back down to her feet, Eliot looks at them, one then the other. He’s not sure his heart is beating until it starts racing and then he’s pulling them both closer. He kisses Parker first then Hardison, tasting their mouths then their throats as they kiss each other.

All three of them are breathing heavy, desperate in a way that near-death makes you. Hardison and Parker are tugging off their clothes, and Eliot is _touching_ them, both of them, and his head is swimming.

“Bed.” Hardison shoves Eliot backward as they all stumble to the bedroom. Eliot has every dimension of his apartment mapped out, so he doesn’t understand how it’s so far to the bedroom, but they’re finally there, the three of them going down in a tangle of limbs on the mattress.

Eliot braces himself above the two of them as they lie side by side. He kisses a path along Parker’s collarbone as she and Hardison hum into their kiss. Eliot licks and nibbles from one side of her chest to the other then does the same to Hardison. Hardison’s head falls back and Eliot moves his mouth to the long expanse of Hardison’s throat. He catches Parker’s eye as she does the same thing on Hardison’s other side.

They move in unison, making Hardison shiver and moan. Eliot licks at Parker’s tongue when they meet at the hollow of Hardison’s throat, kissing each other before continuing down Hardison’s body. Hardison keeps panting, gasping their names and spilling out pleases as they work in tandem, mouths on Hardison’s nipples, Eliot’s hand wrapped over Parkers as they slowly stroke Hardison’s cock.

They both use their teeth against his ribs, sucking on his abdomen, pausing again when they meet in in the middle to explore each other’s mouths. Those moments make Hardison groan, make his cock leak against their fingers.

They take turns teasing Hardison’s navel with little flicks of their tongues, sometimes both together before Eliot and Parker kiss again, deep and long while their hands tighten around Hardison. He moans when they release him, but Eliot feels Hardison prop himself up on his elbows, feels his eyes on them as Parker and Eliot lick at Hardison’s cock and each other’s mouths, tasting and teasing and torturing the shaft and the head.

Their mouths lap at the pre-come that beads at the tip, taking turns tasting him and licking him out of each other’s mouths. The sounds Hardison makes wash over Eliot as Parker takes Hardison in her mouth. Eliot slips down between Hardison's legs, taking his balls into his mouth and sucking a counterpoint to Parker’s rhythm. Parker’s saliva slips down and Eliot tastes her on his tongue as well. He slides off, slides down and his tongue plays against Hardison’s hole. Hardison keens and his body arches off the bed as he comes. Eliot’s tongue penetrates him, thrusting inside him until Hardison’s gibberish finally turns into desperate pleas from over-stimulation.

Parker tugs Eliot up and she manages to kiss them both, three tongues tangled like their bodies, all of them sucking at the hot taste of Hardison on their tongues.

“Holy.” Hardison breathes. He blinks at the ceiling then turns his head to look at Parker. “Damn, baby girl.”

“Hi.” She smiles and kisses him. Eliot watches, hunger in his chest. It’s not long before Hardison turns his head and looks at him.

“You call me a pet name, and I’m gonna break your fingers.” It’s supposed to be a threat, but Hardison’s grin confirms it’s more of an endearment.

“Hi.”

Eliot growls and kisses him hard. They’re both panting when they pull away, and Parker’s watching them with the greedy, gleeful look she gets when she breaks into a safe.

“What do you want?” She and Eliot ask it simultaneously, and Hardison laughs. It’s such a _normal_ sound for Hardison that something loosens in Eliot’s chest.

“Heard you talk about it so much, I want to watch Eliot eat you up.”

Parker wriggles against him. “Yeah?”

“Mm. Yeah. Before you do that though, you think Eliot wants to watch you prep me so I can ride his cock?”

“Wait a minute. You _talk_ about me?”

“Just sex with you,” Parker assures him. She crawls up the bed and digs in Eliot’s drawer. She licks her lips as she crawls back to Hardison, and Eliot can see the glint of wet on her thighs. “Hands and knees.”

Hardison moves into position, legs spread as Parker lubes up her fingers. Eliot couldn’t look away if he wanted to, couldn’t miss Parker's talented fingers opening Hardison up slowly. It’s pure instinct that Eliot’s fingers slip between Parker’s legs, push inside her. She thrusts down against them, her own fingers pushing into Hardison. Eliot has his free hand fisted in the sheets of the bed so he won’t touch his leaking cock, hard and flushed and erect. Wanting.

Hardison gasps as Parker's fingers hit just the right spot. He nods several times. “I’m ready. Yeah.”

Parker growls in disapproval when Eliot removes his fingers from her. She strokes more than she needs to when she puts the condom on him, when she holds him so Hardison can sink down. She watches Eliot’s face as Hardison works his way onto Eliot’s cock, then looks at Hardison’s face when Eliot’s fully inside him. “This is almost better than Christmas.”

“C’mere.” Eliot’s voice rumbles as he tugs her toward him. He’s straining against the urge to thrust up into Hardison, wanting Parker on top of him before they start to move. She straddles him, and Eliot licks from her clit to her ass, flicking his tongue against the puckered flesh. Parker gasps, and then it’s perfect.

Hardison rides him slow and steady to start, all tight and hot. Parker grinds down against his tongue, riding it as well, all wet and slick. Eliot closes his eyes and relies on his other senses, cataloging sounds, feels, tastes, smells. It’s sensory overload that crashes over him in wave after wave of Parker’s orgasms, in the desperate clenches of Hardison’s body around him as Eliot comes.

It’s black and white, night and day, everything and nothing. And for he thinks is the first time in his life, Eliot feels completely defenseless.

He feels _whole_.

**

Eliot doesn’t understand why neither Parker or Hardison don’t get pissed about the time he spends with one or the other, or the time they don’t spend just with each other, or the fact that Eliot’s having sex with both of them. He’s not about to bring it up because he’s afraid it will cause the whole thing to come tumbling down around him. He knows that it’s selfish, but no matter how much he tries, he keeps failing to feel bad about it.

After they rescue Olivia and that son-of-a-bitch Sterling drugs him, Nate manages to corner him in the back of room of McRory’s. He hands Eliot a beer and sits down opposite him with his glass of scotch. “I always think Sterling knows us, but then he does something that shows me he doesn’t know us at all.”

“Next time you’ll let me at least break something of his, right?”

“For example, if he’d told me it was for his daughter, I’d have said yes immediately. Of course, then he’d have had to ask, which would gall him.”

“I’m failing to see the point here.” Eliot takes a pull from his beer and waits while Nate figures out the most useful and effective way to say whatever it is he came to say.

Sterling’s not the only one who doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does.

“And if he’d told you it was for his daughter, you’d have done it, and he wouldn’t have had to drug you, but he keeps seeing you as just muscle.”

“That’s fine with me.”

“You know that’s not how we see you.”

“You worried my feelings are hurt or somethin’, Nate?”

Nate blows out a breath and takes a sip of his scotch before shaking his head and downing the whole thing. “Whatever’s going on with you, Parker, and Hardison needs to stop.”

Eliot stops breathing for a minute. He stares at Nate and, to his credit, Nate doesn’t look away.

“I don’t pretend to know what it is. I don’t _want_ to know what it is. We all depend on each other, all rely on each other. We can’t afford to be emotionally invested in one another. Not on a case.”

Eliot finishes his beer in several measured swallows. “But you and Sophie. That’s okay. And Parker and Hardison.”

“They look up to you, Eliot. They need a protector. They need someone who...”

“And what I need doesn’t matter. Because I do what has to be done. I’m ruthless right? Emotionless. Soulless.” He nods. “We done here?”

“Name one time, one circumstance where you’d put what you need ahead of what they need.”

Eliot stands up and he holds Nate’s gaze. He’ll never be the first one to look away. Not from Nate. Not again. “You’re the soulless bastard in this room, Nate. Not me.”

**

He takes a few side jobs to work off his aggression so he won’t take it out on Nate, and he spends far too many nights in a new place Hardison and Parker don’t know about so they can’t find him. He doesn’t even think about telling them what Nate said. Nate’s right. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he’d put ahead of what they needed. And they need to believe in Nate.

When he does go to his place, there are signs that they’ve been there and, just like he does in the cold bed of the place he’s hiding out, he jerks off to the thought of them, only this time he’s close to them, can smell them.

They’re hurt and angry. Eliot knows that. He doesn’t know if they notice he doesn’t look at Nate much, doesn’t talk to him unless it’s about a job. He does wonder when they take the next job, if Nate’s a mastermind or an emotional manipulator. If there’s a difference. Maybe if you’re just a mastermind, you don’t manipulate your own crew.

He’s honestly not sure if Nate’s putting him in his place or punishing him or if he’s so deep in his bottle he just doesn’t even notice what he’s asking. Eliot’s used to torture, used to interrogations. His job is to take the worst someone can throw at him and walk right through it. Music and cold and threats won’t Punk kids with expensive tastes and over-inflated feelings of importance don’t even faze him. But this. Eliot hopes they’ve got his comm turned off like they do when the music’s playing. Somehow he knows they don’t.

Maybe it’s a test to see if Eliot will lie. If he’s pretending that part of who he was – is – disappeared into the tombs with Damien.

It doesn’t matter one way or the other. Eliot stares the interrogator in the eye and tells him the truth. Tells all of them the truth. With every word, he can feel it slipping away. The wholeness, the completeness that Hardison and Parker give him disappears like so much smoke.

It’s cold in his cell. And dark. He’d forgotten that, in the absence of light, he can still see the blood on his hands.

**

He wakes up to Parker sitting beside his head with a pillow in her lap. He’s also got more blankets than he actually owns on top of him. Parker’s staring at him. Eliot groans. “Go away.”

Nate had given them two weeks off and disappeared. They all knew it was almost the anniversary of Sam’s death, they just didn’t know if Nate had actually gone somewhere or just crawled into a bottle. Eliot isn’t sure he cares.

“Two people committed suicide because of something Hardison did. Found. Because he exposed them. One was a child pornographer, so I’m really glad he’s dead, but they killed themselves. Hardison didn’t pull the trigger, but he pointed the gun.”

“Parker, I’m not in the mood.”

“Shut up.”

He does, from surprise more than anything.

“Sophie stabbed a man who attacked her. She probably didn’t mean to kill him, but we all know where will incapacitate and where will kill.” She pauses like she expects him to interrupt again and nods when he doesn’t. “I jump off buildings. A lot of people try and stop me. They grab me. I jump. They fall.” She looks him in the eye. “They die.”

“Those are all self-defense, Parker. Coincidental. I killed people on purpose.”

She huffs out a breath. “It’s not a competition.” She stops when she realizes she’s yelling. “You’re bad. We’re bad. We don’t _care_ , Eliot.”

He rakes his hand through his hair and throws off the blankets. “Ask me.”

The silence in the room is heavy. Eliot stares at the ceiling. He knows Parker knows what he means, and he knows that she knows why he wants it. It’s a test. As much as he hates them, it’s a test.

Her voice is soft. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done, Eliot?”

He sits up and looks at his hands. “We – all of us in Moreau’s organization – we killed people. Guns. Knives. Garottes. Killed them whether they were asleep or awake. If Damien really wanted to prove a point, he’d watch while we woke them up, killed the family in front of whomever had offended Damien, and then we’d kill them. I killed whole families. Whole towns.”

Parker exhales and nods. The lines around her mouth are tight, but he gets the feeling it’s more for him than because of him.

“I was his lover.”

That draws a gasp out of her, and Eliot exhales slowly. When he inhales, he wonders if it’s going to be the last breath he takes.

“He had a wife. Business arrangement. Kept her prisoner. I was his guard dog. Her guard dog. She was pregnant. I didn’t actually know she was... I didn’t know who she was. I just thought she was a prize Damien was holding over someone’s head. I thought I was in love with her. She had the baby. She was going to give Moreau the son he wanted.” Eliot shakes his head when he sees Parker’s hand reach out toward him. “It was a girl.”

There’s a long moment of quiet and then Parker ignores him and settles her hand on his knee.

“He told me to kill the baby. So I broke her neck. He told me to kill Serena, so I took the gun he gave me and I put a bullet through her head.” He finally looks at her. “He told me to do it and I did. No one had done anything wrong. It was just a girl. Not a boy.”

“Eliot.”

“I loved him, Parker. And what he told me to do, I did. And of the two, I’m not sure which is worse.”

They’re quiet again, neither of them moving. The only sound is the slow rise and fall of their chests and the faint, far away traffic.

“You left after that?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you kill him too?”

“Honestly?” He laughs sadly. “It never crossed my mind.”

“Why didn’t he just try to have another baby?”

“Damien doesn’t give people a second chance.”

“He did with you though. He... Oh.”

“Maybe that’s the worst thing,” Eliot says, his voice devoid of emotion. “That there was something dark enough in me that Damien could love me too.”

“Is Alec better in bed?”

“I. What?”

“Nothing.”

“Did you really just ask me that?”

“No. Maybe.”

Eliot can’t help but laugh. “You’re one of a kind, Parker.”

“I blew up my foster father. Well. His house. And he didn’t die. He caught fire though. Well, a little singed.” She wrinkles her nose. “Right. Probably not the same.”

“I’m glad you’re on my side.”

Parker crawls into his lap. She looks him in the eye and smiles. “I am.”

**

When it comes down to it, Eliot is a soldier. Soldiers follow orders. He was good on his own, but there were still orders. One-offs. Here’s your mission. Good job. Now you’re reassigned. Eliot’s not completely sure he should be allowed to pick his commanding officers, given his track record, but for better or worse, he’s in Nate’s rag-tag army.

Nate doesn’t listen to them. Eliot sometimes allows that generals don’t listen to the privates, but most of the time it’s because, no matter who the client is, Nate has his own agenda. Which is the Achilles heel that makes him leave the team behind. It’s some obnoxious Catholic guilt that Eliot is so very done with, because they all know they work better together than apart. Eliot suspects this is Nate’s way of letting them choose to go along with his personal crusades. The illusion of choice, because they all know they’ll go.

The problem, in the end, is that Nate’s exactly like his father. Not because he’s a thief. Jimmy Ford wasn’t a thief. He was a penny-ante tool for the big names in Boston. Not because they’re both alcoholics, because Nate’s the world champion of that. No. Because they’re both self-righteous, self-serving, self-sacrificing bastards.

The real problem, actually, that Eliot realizes as he bolts out of the van after Nate is that despite everything that isn’t right between them, Nate is _Eliot’s_ chosen self-righteous, self-serving, self-sacrificing bastard. So if Nate’s rushing toward a building burning, it’s Eliot’s job to get there fast, and get there first.

Eliot knows he realized it before the warehouse blew up. That’s why he’s been staying away from Parker and Hardison outside of Nate’s loft. He makes sure to spend a lot of time with them there, sitting together on the couch or leaning against the kitchen counter, finding some way to be close enough to touch.

He doesn’t know if Parker told Hardison about Damien. He doesn’t want to know, but whatever she said was enough to buy him this bit of distance without losing everything else.

And then it goes back to the start.

**

Archie apparently hasn’t changed his opinion about Eliot, but he definitely approves of Hardison. It makes Eliot smile, but not as much as the mutual hatred they _all_ – new and old alike – share for Chaos.

He can see the edge Nate’s teetering on and he goes to talk to him. Sophie’s already there, and Eliot stands there and listens. He hears Nate use him as an argument, as a weapon, but Sophie’s response lets Eliot breath through it. He waits a while to see if anything sinks past Nate’s self-hatred, need for revenge, and grief.

Nothing does, and Eliot ignores Quinn’s pointed looks. They both see the way Nate’s hands shake. Eliot looks at Sophie, and he knows she’s deliberately not looking at him.

Taking a deep breath, he tells Nate a version of the truth. The realest part of it. The part where killing someone deliberately and purposefully kills a part of you. It turns you into someone else. Seeing someone bleed out, seeing someone’s dead eyes staring up at you, seeing them see their killer.

Nate doesn’t listen, but Eliot hopes maybe he _heard_. But be\fore Nate can get to him, Eliot has Dubenich in his sights and a gun in his hand. He wants to pull the trigger. Wants to give up what may be the last part of himself to save Nate. But his hand shakes worse than Nate's even before Sophie says anything, and Eliot realizes that maybe it’s finally true. Maybe he isn’t that man anymore.

In the end, Nate’s not that man either. Eliot’s not sure which one makes him feel better.

**

“You still avoiding us?”

Eliot looks up from his book and takes off his glasses. Sometimes he’s not even sure why he bothers with a security system, since the only people that seem to break in are his team. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“You’re avoiding sexy us.”

“I am not. I’m just. Sexy us, Parker? Really?”

“Naked us?” She suggests. “Is that better?”

“No. It really isn’t.” Eliot laughs. “Nate asked me to work on some stuff, so that’s what I’ve been doing. I still see you both. Still spend time with you.”

“Not the sexy naked us. Not apart or together.” Parker drops onto the couch next to him and snatches the book out of his hand, setting it aside. “Nate says we should all split up. Take some time.”

“I know. I was there.” He quirks an eyebrow at her. “And it was an hour ago.”

“You said you had some friends you wanted to see.” Hardison sits on Eliot’s other side, and Eliot has to wonder if he’s been waiting for this. He knows he’s been wanting it. “But you tell us all the time that you don’t have any friends.”

Parker hums in agreement and runs her fingers lightly down Eliot’s thigh. “So we decided we’re your friends.”

“That’s not...”

Hardison leans closer, his breath moving Eliot’s hair as he speaks. “And you want to see us.”

“I...”

Parker catches Eliot’s chin and turns him toward her. “Sexy, naked, friendly us.” She’s stripped off her shirt, and Eliot does get to see at least partially naked her for a moment before she kisses him. Hardison leans into Eliot and moves his mouth along Eliot’s throat.

“You want us to stop?” His fingers curl under the collar of Eliot’s shirt and pull at it, getting it out of the way so he can lick at Parker’s mark.

“No. No. Don’t. Don’t stop.”

Thieves and hackers are both amazing with their hands, which is the only way Eliot can explain how all three of them are naked so quickly. The couch isn’t made for all of them together, so Eliot pulls Hardison to the bedroom, carrying Parker.

Her legs are locked around his waist, which means he has to let go of Hardison to dislodge her and toss her on the bed. She bounces, squeaks, and laughs then reaches for both of them. They follow her down, and by unspoken agreement, Eliot and Hardison crawl up her body, mouths finding the hard tips of her nipples.

Parker arches up into their mouths as they both suck and lick and bite. She has a hand curved around the back of each of their heads, refusing to let them pull away. Eliot has no intention of going anywhere, but he pushes into the possessive pressure so Parker holds him tighter. He catches her nipple between his teeth and sucks hard, forcing a choked gasp from her.

Hardison grabs Eliot’s hand and laces their fingers together as he skates them down over Parker’s stomach. She shivers slightly then harder as Hardison guides their hands between her legs. She spreads them wider as Hardison rubs his and Eliot’s knuckles against the folds of her skin. One of Hardison’s fingers stretches out and Eliot chuckles around Parker’s breast as he does the same. Their fingers press tight together and then slide inside Parker, pushing deep until their knuckles are against her wet skin.

Eliot lets Hardison control the thrusts as he touches her, stroking slick and sensitive flesh. He moves off her breast and stretches upward so he can press a kiss against her mark. Parker whimpers and Hardison loosens another finger in response so on the next slow thrust they fill her with four fingers.

Hardison makes a noise, so Eliot can only assume that Parker did the equivalent of yanking Eliot’s hair to him. They don’t stop, and Parker dissolves into a shuddering mass on the bed, her orgasm rolling through her once and then again before she pushes them away. She watches them through slitted eyes as Eliot slides his fingers into Hardison’s mouth. Hardison sucks and moans around them as he pushes his own fingers past Eliot’s lips.

Eliot gets to his knees and leans over Parker to kiss Hardison. He kisses back, pushing Eliot as he does so they’re both kneeling on either side of her. They groan in unison as Parker's hands curves around their balls. Eliot kisses Hardison again, wrapping his hand around Hardison’s cock. “Uh-uh,” Hardison mutters against Eliot’s lips, copying the gesture and stroking up Eliot’s shaft.

Their hands and Parker’s hands, their mouths meeting and breaking apart to find skin, the sound of Parker talking, telling them how they look, what to do, and the desperate relief of touching them again makes Eliot tremble even before he’s close to coming.

Parker releases them both and they both reach down to touch her like they’re closing some kind of circuit. She slides two of her fingers between her legs while her other hand settles on her breast, pinching her nipple. “Want. Next time.” She’s breathless, and the noise pushes Eliot closer to the edge. “Next time I want you both inside me. Want to suck you while E-El-” She breaks off, or Eliot can’t hear her over the rush of blood in his ears.

He comes just after Hardison, both of them panting and begging each other to stop. They slump against each other over Parker. Eliot looks down and groans beneath his breath as she runs her fingers through the thick mess of his and Hardison’s come and then presses her sticky fingers to her clit. Her body trembles as she rubs and comes again.

He’s not sure if Parker pulls them or if they simply collapse beside her. She draws lazy patterns through the come on her stomach, smiling like a very contented cat.

“You mean that, mama?” Hardison asks, his voice hazy and sated. “About next time?”

Parker turns her head and kisses him. “Unless Eliot wants to be in my mouth. Or that could be the next, next time.”

“Nate said we’re supposed to be taking a break,” Eliot reminds them, even though there’s no fire behind the words.

“Yeah. But he didn’t say we had to start right _now_.”

**

Vance calls a week later, and it takes Eliot a while to find his phone buried under three blankets, four pairs of jeans, a pair of flip-flops, and one of Parker’s harnesses. He’s not even sure how half the stuff got there. When he finally finds it, there’s message consisting of an abrupt “Call me.” Eliot tugs on a pair of boxers and goes into the kitchen to start breakfast. He looks at the clock then back into the bedroom and the very warm cocoon the three of them had been hibernating in.

Okay. Dinner.

“Vance.”

“You called?”

“Line still secure?”

“Yes.” He falls into the familiar cadence of the military, but he stops short of calling Vance sir. He likes Vance. Vance has done the same job Eliot did for a long time, and he’s made a career off the secrets. He respects Vance. But he doesn’t serve under him. “What’s the sit-rep?”

“How do you feel about saving the world?”

“Been there, done that.”

“What if I could promise you a tan and all the sand a man could possibly ever want.”

Eliot sighs. “Send me the details. I need a day.”

“You have seventeen hours to meet at the rendezvous. Got your name written on my dance card, Spencer. Don’t make me a wallflower.”

Eliot hangs up the already dead phone. He turns back to the counter where Parker’s now sitting, dressed in one of his t-shirts. “Do you have to leave right away?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to do that creepy ‘get your affairs in order’ thing, do you?”

“They’re already in order.”

She nods and pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have to come back.”

“The stuff I do, Parker. You know I can’t promise that.”

“I’m not asking for a promise. It’s an order. You have to come back.”

“Not sure the people I’m probably going up against are gonna care about your orders.”

She looks at him, and Eliot feels himself flush at everything in her eyes. They may not care about her orders, but Eliot does. “You have to come back.”

He wants to remind her that she has Nate and Sophie. That Hardison loves her. That she’s amazing and smart and strong and talented and he loves her, and she’s more than someone like him deserves. He opens his mouth to say all that, but he doesn’t.

“What do you want for dinner?”

From the smile on her face, Eliot thinks maybe he did say it after all.

**

Eliot gets a text that simply has GPS coordinates. It has to be from Hardison, because no one else would think Eliot’s stupid enough to show up at a location without knowing what he’s walking into. He looks the coordinates up and gets Portland, Oregon, and then he gets a picture of Parker hanging underneath a bridge. After about 20 more pictures, he adds “teaching Parker about selfies” to the list of reasons to kick Hardison’s ass.

He gets another text, this one from Hardison. He gives in and finally calls. “What?”

“Do you need an engraved invitation? Vacation time’s over. Time for little Eliot to go back to school.”

“I know there’s no way you just actually said what I think you just said.”

“Wheeee!” Parker’s voice gets louder when he hears Hardison’s protest. “Eliot, come home.”

“Home? You’re on the wrong side of the country.”

“Hardison says home is where we are, and you should get your ass back here.”

“I did not… Woman! Don’t put words in my mouth!”

“He made gooey eyes when he said it.”

Eliot rubs his tired eyes with his thumb and finger as Hardison keeps protesting. He’s too damn tired for this, and since Vance ditched him for the first Space A flight, he’s been sitting in the airport waiting for a flight home. Where he’ll apparently have to catch a flight to Portland.

He’s tempted to hang up since they’ve probably forgotten he’s even there, but he knows when they realize he’s gone, they’ll call back.

Over. And over. And over.

He glances up at the board and he’s still got five hours before his flight. It is nice to hear them, listen to them. Hardison’s right, though Eliot would never admit it. The two of them are home for him.

“Eliot, man, you still there?”

“Yeah. Still here.”

“Where you at?”

“Got a flight to Boston in about five hours.”

“What time are you due in? I’ll get a flight to here set up for you.”

“Not sure. Layover in London then a red-eye home, I think. I’ll send you the details.”

“Okay. Well, if you’re looking to wander, stay away from McRory’s. Nice collection of visitors hanging out there now.”

“Probably won’t leave the airport, but thanks for the heads-up.”

“Want you to get here before Nate and Sophie. Maybe catch up a little, know what I mean?”

“Yeah. Because you’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer.”

“I am _suave_ , man. Suave.”

“Right.” He rolls his eyes, hoping that somehow Hardison will hear it through the phone. “I’ll send you the flight details.”

“Come home!” He hears Parker yell, dragging out the words. “Eliot, come hoooooome.”

He hangs up and sends the flight details to Hardison. He kicks his dusty boots onto his duffle bag before pulling out his glasses and book. Might as well enjoy the peace and quiet while he can.

**

Hardison’s outside the baggage claim, leaning against the van. A shiver of heat goes up Eliot’s spine, fanning around his ribcage. From the look that crosses Hardison’s face, Eliot knows he’s not the only one feeling it.

Hardison holds his hand out for their complicated handshake, and then he pulls Eliot into a quick hug. “Whoo. You need a shower, man. You are _fragrant_.”

Eliot pulls back and flips him off before tossing his duffel bag at him. Hardison catches it with a surprised grunt and stumbles back into the side of the van. “Drive the damn van.”

Hardison stows Eliot’s bag before getting in. Eliot stares out at the bright lights and the river, the shadowed frames of the bridges. “How many has Parker jumped off?”

“Most of ‘em. I lost track.”

“She didn’t make you go with her?”

“Hell nah.”

“What excuse did you use?”

“Excuse? I didn’t…” Hardison huffs indignantly. “I was busy. You’ll see.”

“But will I regret it?”

“Now that’s just mean. Flat out mean.”

Eliot can’t help smiling. He reaches over and rubs his hand along Hardison’s thigh down toward his knee. Hardison’s eyes close slightly, his hands tightening around the steering wheel. He doesn’t say anything as Eliot slides his hands back up, fingertips on the seam of Hardison’s jeans.

Hardison’s voice is throaty. “Damn, Eliot.”

Eliot turns slightly, bending his knee and setting his leg on the seat, the side of his head against the back. He doesn’t say anything as he gently strokes Hardison’s thigh, watching shivers run through him, see the goosebumps rise on his skin.

“Hi, Eliot!”

They both jump and the van swerves to the left. Hardison’s eyes go to the rearview mirror and Eliot reaches back and grabs Parker’s hand.

“Parker...” Hardison starts.

Her lower lip slides out in an exaggerated pout. “I wanted to see Eliot too.” She squeezes his hand before climbing between the seats and settling on Eliot’s lap. “I didn’t want to wait.”

Eliot grabs her hips to steady her on top of him. “Maybe pop out before we’re going 60 miles an hour.”

“Oh.” She smiles. “Next time.” She rubs her hand over Eliot’s chest, fingers catching on the buttons, undoing them as smoothly as she does a lift. Eliot watches her as she flattens her hand against his t-shirt. “Why do you always wear too many clothes?”

“Well, I wasn’t aware I was going to have a lapful of Parker on my way home.”

“You should plan for all possible circumstances. And wear less clothes.” She leans in and kisses along his collarbone, the cotton of his t-shirt retaining the heat of her mouth. Eliot rubs his hand down her back and she moves into him, arching like a cat.

“Not fair,” Hardison groans softly.

“That’s what you get for not letting me drive,” Parker says. “Besides if I were driving we’d be there by now.”

Eliot curves a hand around Parker’s hip and turns her, guiding her back until she’s leaning on the passenger door. She frowns slightly, the expression changing as he runs her fingers along the waistband of her pants.

“ _Really_ not fair,” Hardison grumbles.

“You’ve had her with you all summer, man.” Eliot laughs softly, pushing his hand beneath the fabric. Parker’s leg falls to the side, opening her up and making it easy for Eliot to slip two fingers beneath her underwear. Parker’s breath falters then catches as Eliot carefully teases his calloused fingers around her clit.

Parker gasps as her head falls back. Hardison glances over, then away. Eliot looks over at him. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

“How? How’m I supposed to do that when you’re doing _that_?”

“Jest getting her ready for us. Right, darlin’?” Parker shivers and he laughs quietly. “Not too much. Just a tease, right?”

She wriggles, trying to get more pressure, trying to angle herself and guide his fingers inside her. Eliot never lets her, barely touching her. He slips his fingers out, ignoring her protest. Easing them out of her pants, he presses them to Hardison lips, and Hardison sucks them into his mouth.

Parker whimpers and grinds down onto Eliot. He takes his fingers from Hardison’s mouth and pushes them back in Parker’s pants, rubbing her again. He’s got no idea where they’re going, but he hopes like hell they’ll be there quickly.

“Just. Yeah. Almost. Damn.” Hardison stares out at the road in front of them, pressing down on the gas. He glances at them every few seconds like he’s making sure they’re still there. Eliot presses his head onto Parker’s shoulder before moving closer and letting his hot breath fan over her neck.

She reaches her hand out and curls it around Hardison’s forearm.

“Yeah, almost there, babe.”

Eliot scrapes his teeth along Parker’s jaw then nuzzles close, his stubble grazing her soft skin. Her hips swivel in a small circle, trying for more from Eliot's fingers, grinding down on his hard cock.

Hardison brings the van to a quick, jerking stop in an alleyway and gets to his knees between the seats, stripping Parker’s leggings and panties to her knees. He moves in and slides his tongue along the back of Eliot’s fingers before pressing it inside of Parker.

Eliot catches the noise Parker makes in a kiss, finally letting his fingers do more than hint at touching. There’s dim street light at the mouth of the alley that just highlights the shadow of Hardison’s head against Parker's pale thighs.

Parker catches her lower lip in her teeth and bites it, trapping all the desperate sounds she’s making behind it. Eliot pinches her clit and she thrusts down. Hardison’s tongue pushes inside, occasionally coming up to lick Eliot’s fingers. He turns them and thrusts them into Hardison’s mouth so he can suck them hard before they both return their attention to Parker.

Eliot can feel the dampness from Parker’s arousal, from Hardison’s mouth and tongue. He nips at Parker’s earlobe then trails his tongue down her neck. Her breath hitches and Eliot can feel the tension coiling inside her, her body pressing against his.

He slides his two fingers inside her, trading with Hardison as he moves his tongue to flicker across her clit. Parker makes a small sound and then her body goes rigid. Hardison’s tongue comes down to thrust in with Eliot's fingers, licking him and Parker clean as she comes.

Parker drops her head back and smiles at Eliot. “Welcome to Portland.”

**

Eliot wakes up the next morning in a huge bed with Parker tucked up to his side, her hand on his mark, and Hardison sprawled out next to him with his arm draped over Eliot so his hand is settled on his own mark on Eliot’s ribcage. The marks throb with their touches, and Eliot lies there, feeling it with the beat of his heart. Months spent half a world away had reduced them to largely just visual reminders. Here, like this, Eliot feels them, a still-burning brand on his skin.

“Hey,” Hardison whispers softly. He moves in and presses a kiss on the scar just below Eliot’s shoulder. “Any new scars or gunshot wounds we should know about?”

“Cut myself shaving two weeks ago. Bled like crazy. I almost passed out.”

“Jackass.”

Eliot chuckles and presses a kiss to Hardison’s palm. “All in one piece.”

“Damn well better be. I don’t feel like trekking around the world looking for bits of Eliot.” He yawns and lets his hand wander down Eliot’s side to his hip. “Parker made me jump off a bunch of buildings. A _lot_ of ‘em.”

“Are we trading stories of what we did on our summer vacations?” He can’t help but be amused. “Mine was all fun in the sun.”

“I watched the news.” Hardison’s thumb traces a series of small circles on the jut of Eliot’s hip. “Did you get caught in the sandstorm?”

“I was at a bar in Nepal.”

Hardison scoffs. “Yeah? Indiana Jones there?”

“I thought you’d be impressed I made a geek joke.” Eliot ducks his head and catches Hardison in a kiss. “I’m okay. A few bumps. A few bruises.”

“And how many sheiks are after your head for defiling their daughters?”

“I didn’t defile a single soul. Scout’s honor.”

Hardison looks at Eliot’s finger salute and smiles wide. “You were, weren’t you?”

“What?”

“Oh, man. You were _totally_ a Boy Scout. Damn. I have _got_ to find me some pictures of that.”

“Or,” Eliot warns, “you could not.”

“Or not. Right. That’s what I was sayin’.”

Eliot kisses him again, long and slow. Hardison’s hand stays where it is, thumb still moving. Eliot wants more, wants Hardison’s hand around him, but also wants to revel in this, in the feel of it.

“Are we doing sex roleplay now?”

Eliot chokes and pulls back from the kiss. “What?”

“Hardison was just talking about you being a Boy Scout. I thought maybe it was a sex thing.”

“No, babe. Just saying that Eliot totally was one when he was a kid. It’s obvious. Boy Scout, quarter back, homecoming king, joining the Army. Uncle Sam was salivating for Eliot from the day he was born.”

“Stop saying creepy shit, Hardison.”

Hardison’s phone pings and stops him from replying. Parker takes advantage of the distraction to lie on top of Eliot, staring at him from two inches away. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too.”

“Whenever Hardison’s phone does that, he gets all weird. I could ride you while he does that.”

“I ain’t ever gonna say no to that.”

She pulls back and sits up, situating herself over Eliot’s cock. She traps it between her thighs as she grabs the condom. He groans when she pulls back and then again when she rolls it on him. She rises onto her knees before reaching down to press the head of his cock against her. Eliot inhales as Parker sinks down, surrounding him.

Eliot laces his fingers with hers and lets her guide his hands above his head. She leans over him, her breasts brushing his chest. She rocks back and then forward in time with the thrusts of his hips. He can hear Hardison talking to himself or to his phone in the background, but his eyes and focus are locked on Parker.

She doesn’t look away either as she rides down against him, muscles clenching tight. She releases his hands and straightens, the speed of her thrusts changing with the new angle. Eliot feels Hardison move back against him and he knows he’s staring up at Parker just as rapt as Eliot is. She looks gorgeous astride him, and he surrenders as much as he can as her hands tighten around his wrists.

Eliot frees one of his hands and reaches down to find the hard thickness of Hardison’s cock. He wraps his hand around it and starts stroking Hardison, well aware that his hands are rough from the summer, and that the hard callouses probably feel rougher with every touch.

“Uh-uh.” Hardison shakes his head as he wraps his hand around Eliot’s. He changes the speed and the rhythm as he tightens his hand so Eliot’s palm is tight and hard around the smoothness of Hardison’s cock. His rhythm is faster than Parker’s, and Eliot’s caught between the different speeds. He loses himself to them, letting them have complete control. Surrendering is almost impossible for him, but trusting them is second nature.

Parker’s orgasm hits first. She clenches tight around Eliot as she comes. Eliot’s right on the edge, but Hardison’s voice is in his ear, distracting him. “Hold on, Eliot. Just a little bit longer. Hold on for me.”

Parker grabs Eliot’s free hand and guides it between her legs, rocking her hips up so that his fingers are on her clit. Eliot shakes his head. “Can’t, Hardison. Can’t.” His chest tightens as he chokes the words out. He’s so close; only the fact that his muscles are locked tight enough to keep him frozen keeps him in check.

Hardison’s body jerks beside him, and sticky heat coats Eliot’s palm. He’s not even sure if Hardison is finished coming before he moves, draping over Eliot to press his mouth to Parker’s clit. Eliot feels Hardison’s tongue slip over his fingers between them then down to where Eliot’s cock is buried inside her, licking at the both of them.

It’s too much and sends Eliot over the edge. Parker makes a strangled sound, then she’s coming too. They all keep moving together -- his cock, Hardison’s tongue, Parker’s body -- until Parker shivers and grabs the back of Hardison’s head to pull him away. He takes her hand and guides her off of Eliot. Hardison wraps his arms around her as Eliot takes a few minutes to catch his breath. He gets up and disposes of the condom.

When he comes back to the bed, Parker reaches out to him and he lies down, letting her pull him against her.

Her breath is warm on his skin. “Welcome home.”

**

Nate and Sophie arrive the next day, and Eliot leads them back to where Hardison and Parker are waiting. Eliot knows they’re going to be based out of Portland now, but Hardison manages to surprise him twice. First because Hardison tells them he bought their new headquarters and the brew pub. The second is the realization that Hardison didn’t just buy it. He bought it for _Eliot_.

He’s not sure what to think about it once he figures it out, because it’s heavy and laced with more meaning than he likes. They haven’t really talked about feelings, at least not ones beyond the simple bonds of the marks they all wear. The warmth in his chest at the realization bothers him. More than that, it makes him angry, but he’s not sure whether it’s at Hardison or at himself. He covers it with annoyance, ranting about the problems with the menu and steadfastly ignoring Parker’s plans for beers. Thief Juice. Christ.

It amazes him how quickly they manage to find a client, like Hardison’s been advertising in the damn Yellow Pages. He doesn’t say anything, mostly because he doesn’t want Hardison to give him shit for mentioning the Yellow Pages like an old man.

They fall back into their rhythm easily, like they hadn’t taken a break at all. Eliot’s on the outskirts again this time, mostly dealing with Jenny. The whole case -- at least Nate and Hardison’s parts -- sounds completely ridiculous to him, but that’s the case most of the time whether they’re on a con or not. Whatever it is though, it works. They find the camera. They get the bad guys.

The _bad_ bad guys.

The second job takes longer to come along, but after that it feels like they spend all their time researching, doing reconnaissance, and, for Eliot at least, trying to figure out the damn brew pub menu. Which is why, when Nate takes him down to Danny, he’s so damned relieved. Every muscle needs to move.

“How come you’re always the sports star?”

Eliot looks at Hardison for a long minute, managing not to laugh. Hardison gives him a dirty look as Eliot stretches out in one of the chairs. “By all means, Hardison, you be the enforcer.”

“I could.” He looks at Parker. “I could.”

She nods absently. “I know.”

“Y’all are just mean.” Hardison crosses his arms over his chest. Parker absently pats his shoulder. After a minute of that, she walks over and sits on the floor in front of where Eliot’s sitting and looks at him.

“Do you have all your teeth?”

“Do I… What? Yes.”

“Hockey players never have teeth. Do we have to take some out? Can I do it?”

Eliot looks over at Nate and Sophie who are apparently watching the show the three of them are putting on. “I’m going away. Call me when we’re ready to go to the rink.”

“You do know how to skate, right, Eliot?”

He glares at Sophie. “Call me.”

He doesn’t actually go far, just down to the brew pub. The kitchen is busy, and the main room is filled with Friday night revelry. There’s a leggy brunette at the end of the bar who looks at him. He thinks about it for a minute. They’re not working the con tonight, so he’s got free time. He glances at the ceiling, even though there’s nothing to see. He orders a beer and toasts her with it. She gives him a promising smile in return. 

He takes a few drinks from the bottle as they watch each other. She moves closer to him. He takes another draw from the bottle as he lets his eyes wander down the length of her legs.

“I’m Allison.”

He hears Nate and Sophie coming into the room, which means Parker and Hardison are together. He has no right or reason to feel any of the tightness in his chest when he thinks that. “Eliot. You want to get out of here?”

She smiles. “Lead the way.”

**

Eliot’s alone in the rink, skating around, working the puck across the ice. Most of the lights are off, more shadow on the smooth white surface than anything as he glides around. He feels them watching him. They’d shut the door quietly, but in the empty building it had be easy enough to hear them even without his keen hearing.

He skates over to them, both of them in the penalty box, sharing a bag of popcorn. “Game’s been over for a couple hours.”

“You’re still here.”

“Practicing. These guys are good. I’m on the team, and you don’t let your team down.”

Parker hands the bag off to Hardison and opens the door, walking out onto the ice. Eliot huffs a laugh, but he’s not worried about her. She strips his gloves off of him and smiles. “Pull me around.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I want you to.”

He shrugs and, because it’s Parker, it’s reason enough. He starts skating backward, pulling her along. She follows him across the ice, a happy grin lighting up her face. He starts skating faster, and she lets go of one of his hands. Eliot grabs for her, but she spins out away from him. He tightens his grip on her other hand and tugs her back in. She doesn’t fight him. Instead she turns in and crashes into his chest. 

He slips his arm around her waist and holds her there, not moving his skates so they slow to a stop. She’s still smiling when he looks at her.

Hardison applauds. “Top marks from everyone except the judge from Japan. I think he was disappointed by the lack of jumps.”

“You being out here would be like watching a giraffe skate.” Eliot skates over to Hardison, tugging Parker along with him. “So, what exactly are you guys doing here?”

“I was bored.” Parker boosts herself up onto the wall of the home team bench. “So we came up with something.”

“For the con?” He knows he should have his earbud in, but he’d been enjoying the silence. 

“No. For us.”

“Us.” He glances at Hardison to see if he can do some enlightening. His face is carefully blank, which immediately makes Eliot tense.

“Well. You. You with us.”

“Parker, I got slammed into a wall at least three times tonight, not to mention getting a stick to the side of the head. Could you please _try_ to make some sense for me?”

“No more girls from the pub.”

Eliot turns to look at Hardison, processing his words. He runs them through his Parker filter and his Hardison filter and still comes up pissed off. “Excuse me?”

“You can still have sex with girls. Or guys. Just not ones from the pub.” Parker nods. “We decided.”

“We?” Eliot’s eyebrow goes up. “ _We_ decided?”

Parker keeps going as if he hasn’t said anything. “We’re not saying you can’t have sex and stuff. You should do that. With other people. If you want. Just not people from the pub. Because you might get to know them and... stuff.”

Eliot looks at Hardison again. His voice is sharp. “What?”

Hardison shrugs one shoulder. “We saw you leave last night.”

“With a girl,” Parker says with emphasis. “From the _pub_.”

Eliot goes into the bench area, puts on his blade covers, and walks back to the locker room. He regulates his breathing, counting to five before each exhale. He sits down and tugs his jersey over his head, tossing it back into his locker before starting to remove his protective gear.

“We weren’t watching you.” Hardison says softly. He’s leaning against the door, plenty of space between him and Eliot. “We just happened to see you leaving.”

“My sex life is none of your business.” Parker snorts a laugh, and Eliot’s very aware of how dumb he sounds. “You know what I mean.”

“The pub is home base.” Hardison elbows Parker when she starts to say something. “And there are going to be regulars. And with everything that goes on with the team. Well…” He trails off and doesn’t quite look at Eliot.

“So you guys came all the way down here to tell me not to pick up girls at the pub.”

“Yes!” Parker beams at him. “Well, or guys.”

“The pub I’m not going to be near for the next week or so.”

“Yes!” She just as enthusiastic, but Hardison has his head bowed, so Eliot can’t see his expression. “Don’t shit where you eat!”

“Don’t… You… Do you even know what that means, Parker?”

“Don’t date people where you work.”

He looks at Hardison, but he’s still avoiding Eliot’s gaze. “Parker, Nate and Sophie are together. You and Hardison are together. You are dating people from where you work.”

“That’s the team. That’s different. We know about things. Leverage things. She doesn’t know anything. But if she likes you, she’ll come back because she saw you come out through the kitchen, so she knows you work there, so she’ll come back.”

“So?”

“So you can’t have a Leverage-adjacent girlfriend.”

“Leverage-adjacent? Can you even hear yourself?”

Parker frowns and looks at Hardison. He shrugs and finally meets Eliot’s eyes. “Sophie and Nate would tell you the same thing.”

Eliot’s jaw clenches as he looks down to unlace his skates. He knows if he looks at them, they’ll likely see the anger he knows is flaring in his eyes. “Let me get this straight. Nate and Sophie have spent four years playing ‘will-they-won’t-they’, and this was fine. You two have been doing the repressed emotion geek mating dance for the same amount of time, and my one-goddamn-night stand is the problem?”

“No. Your one-night stand with the girl from the--”

“If you say ‘pub’ one more time, Parker.” Eliot cuts off the warning and stands up. “We’re not doing this. I will have sex with whomever I want wherever I want to pick them up. And you two can go be a couple somewhere I’m not.” He grabs his towel and heads for the showers, not looking back.

**

Parker’s sitting on his bed when he gets home from the rink. The bar after the rink. Hockey players _celebrate_. He’s had a couple of beers and more than a couple of shots, and he’s not feeling any of the aches and pains he’s glazed over with the alcohol. 

He ignores her because it’s the easiest thing to do. He kicks off his shoes and heads for the bathroom. He keeps ignoring her when her reflection appears in the mirror while he’s brushing his teeth. 

“Are you still mad at us?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

She frowns, turning her head to follow him as he walks out of the room. He grabs a hair tie off his dresser and pulls his hair back before shrugging out of his suit jacket. He tosses it onto the chair in the corner of the room and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “You seem kind of mad.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why do you seem mad? Not like normal Eliot mad. Mad-mad Eliot mad.”

“Parker, I’m not mad.”

She perches on the bed again as he takes off his dress slacks and replaces them with sweats. “Do you wish we weren’t together? Me and Hardison?”

“No.” Eliot sits on the bed, moving a pillow out of the way and leaning back against the headboard. “I’m glad you have each other. You’re good. He’s got you, you know?”

“I don’t understand.”

Eliot rubs the back of his neck, ignoring the faint throb in his cheek breaking through the haze of alcohol. “You guys are happy. Hell, Nate and Sophie are happy in their own dysfunctional way.”

“Are you not happy?” Her brow wrinkles like it’s a possibility she’s never considered.

“I’m happy, Parker. I’m just…” He shrugs. “The two of you don’t get to tell me how I’m allowed to be happy or how I’m not.” He touches his shoulder. “This isn’t a certificate of ownership.”

“We don’t think that!”

“Look, I’m beat up, tired, and more than a little drunk. Go home, okay?”

“You’re lonely,” she whispers it, but it seems too loud in the silence. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because there isn’t anything to tell. The life I’ve lived doesn’t have some white picket fence. I don’t do relationships. I take what I can afford to take.”

“Wait. You pay for sex?”

“What I can afford in my _life_ , Parker. And that ain’t happily ever after.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because you’re our Eliot.”

He sighs and bows his head. “Go home.”

“I could stay. So that you’re not lonely. Tonight. So that tonight you’re not lonely.” She leans forward and trails her fingers over his ankle. “Or you could come with me. We like you there with us.”

“Goodnight.”

She glares at him a little, but she gets off the bed. “I think you’re wrong. I think you could be not-lonely. I think you could be happy. I think you’re just scared.”

“The only thing I’m scared of is something happening that I can’t protect the team from.”

“You think _you’re_ the something that you can’t protect the team from. And you’re scared that if you’re happy someone’s going to take it away or use it against you. But _all_ of us are afraid of that. That’s why it’s _hard_.”

“Goodbye, Parker.”

“I love you.”

They both freeze.

Parker breathes shakily. “We… We all love you. All four of us. So you’re not alone. And… and sometimes you’re happy. And you _deserve_ it.”

Eliot can practically hear Hardison say those words to her, and he’s glad she’s taken them to heart. “Those words were for you, Parker.”

“Why are you so dumb?” She walks to the head of the bed and he sees tears in her eyes, angry and sad. “You know what? Fine. Do you one-night stands. Martyr yourself. I don’t know how else to show you that you have a _home_ with us. With the four of us. And with _us_.”

He needs another drink. “Go home, Parker.”

She turns and she’s gone. Eliot’s exhausted, but there’s no chance he’ll sleep tonight.

**

The next con has Eliot and Sophie playing a married couple, which means Nate is in a pissy mood for the whole thing. Parker watches Eliot with Sophie during the entire thing, and Eliot finally catches her by the arm, guiding her into the hotel bathroom.

She looks around and frowns. “I don’t need to go to the bathroom.”

“I’m not married to Sophie.”

“I’m not actually stupid.”

“You’re glaring at me.”

Parker’s jaw actually drops. “Me? _I’m_ glaring at _you_?”

“Okay, poor choice of words.”

“You made it clear you want to be left alone.”

“No. I didn’t.” Eliot snaps. He hears the connecting door between the rooms open and curses under his breath, pulling out his earbud.

“Everything okay?”

Eliot takes a breath. Nate’s usually cool and collected, but when he knows it’s there, it’s easy for Eliot to hear the annoyed undercurrent in his voice. Annoyed only at least. Not angry yet. “Fine.”

“Do we have a problem?”

“No.”

“Parker?”

“No problem.”

There’s a long silence and then the main door opens. Parker opens her mouth, but Eliot presses a finger to his lips. He gestures to the ceiling with a quick jerk of his head. She narrows her eyes, but puts her hands on Eliot’s shoulders so he can boost her up. Once she’s up in the drop ceiling, Eliot opens the bathroom door. Nate’s sitting on the bed, reclining back on his elbows.

“Where’s Parker?”

“She’s not a fan of confrontation.”

“We talked about this.”

“No. You did. You can’t tell me to leave them alone and then tell me to protect them.”

“You know very well what I meant.”

“They’re my friends, Nate. Maybe you and I aren’t. Just like you said. Maybe I’m too much like you, or maybe I’m the total opposite. But they’re my friends, and I‘ve got damn few of ‘em. So I’m not gonna give them up just because you think I can’t separate that from my job.”

“I think it’s because you have so few of them that you can’t separate it from your job. Your job is not to be their friend. It’s to be our hitter.”

Eliot snaps a salute, sneering at Nate with the same contempt he normally reserves for himself. “Sir, yes sir.”

“Eliot.”

“No. Don’t worry, Nate. I got the message.” He makes a show of turning on his earbud and putting it back in his ear. “Just tell Hardison to point me in the right direction. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get dressed for the other part of my job.”

**

The con, for once, goes off without a hitch, and Eliot disappears for a few days. He goes out of town, driving out into the woods where even Hardison’s electronics can’t find him. It’s the first time he’s gone off-grid while they were working, and it’s the first time he doesn’t care.

He’s only gone for the weekend, but by the time he gets close enough to civilization to get cell service, his phone lights up like a pinball machine. He puts it on speaker and gets message after message of Hardison wanting to know where he is and Sophie telling him to come home, and Nate telling him not to be a child, and two calls of just silence. Scared silence.

He stops by Bowery Bagels and gets a couple dozen along with everyone’s favorite schmear before heading to Hardison’s. Parker’s the first to see him, and she runs over and jumps on him, hugging him like a long-lost relative.

“The prodigal son,” Nate murmurs, almost quiet enough, but not quite.

“I’m not asking for you for anything. Let go of me, Parker.”

She doesn’t even loosen her hold, so Eliot carries her over to a chair and disengages her. She lets go reluctantly, but pulls her hand back as if scalded when she touches his shoulder. He ignores the shocked look on her face, sitting in one of the armchairs and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. 

Nate’s eyes narrow, like he’s trying to figure something out, but Eliot just turns his attention to the screen when Nate tells Hardison to run it.

**

He’s expecting it, but he still lets Parker take him down. She uses everything he taught her and a few things she obviously learned on her own. He doesn’t flinch when she pulls a knife, even when she holds it to his throat before slicing through the collar of his t-shirt.

She rips the fabric down to the gauze on his shoulder, tearing the tape as she pulls the bandage off. There’s a deep cut on the outside edge of her mark, and she slaps him hard across the face. “How… How _dare_ you.” Her voice breaks, and he can feel her shaking. He resists the urge to pull her close, to hold her. She follows the cut and then presses her palm against her mark. “How _dare_ you.”

“I didn’t.”

“You _tried_.”

“Parker. Parker.” He catches her chin and forces her to look at him. “I couldn’t.”

“Why?” Tears fall down her cheeks, and he uses his thumbs to wipe them away.

“Because of this. Because I’m too close. Because I can’t protect you when… I can’t protect you two when you’re all I see. I can’t protect the four of you.”

“I hate you so much right now.” She chokes out the words. “This isn’t you. This isn’t. This is… This is Nate. What did he say?”

“The truth. I’m getting sloppy. Distracted.”

She shakes her head. “Bullshit. You’ve never been sloppy. Not a day in your life.”

“I wish that were true.”

“Don’t you _ever_ try to cut me out of your life. Out of you.” She’s off him in a flash and out of his apartment before he gets to his feet. 

He rubs his shoulder and curses under his breath. He knows Parker either has told or will tell Hardison. He’s probably going to get punched again. He’s beginning to understand Nate’s drinking. 

But he’s going to own this. Letting his present haunt him will be a nice change.

**

Hardison doesn’t say anything. It keeps Eliot on edge and uncomfortable as he waits for the other shoe to drop. It takes seeing Sophie sitting with the two of them to make Eliot realize what happened.

Sophie happened.

Sophie got some kind of hint from Nate -- either something said or deduced -- and she intervened. She glances up and sees him, waving him over. “Eliot, we were just talking about dinner.”

Eliot slides into the chair beside Hardison, their knees bumping. Hardison glances at him briefly as he moves his leg away. “Sorry.”

Eliot gives him a jerky nod in response, ignoring Sophie's strained smile and Parker’s vacant look. “We’ve decided it’s pizza and movie night.”

“You hate pizza.”

“I don’t _hate_ it. It’s simply that you Americans do it wrong.” She takes a sip of her tea. “So, that’s settled.”

“It is?” Eliot gives her a look, but staring down a determined Sophie Devereaux is not something Eliot’s up for. “Fine.”

“Excellent. Hardison’ll order the pizza, and I’ll pick the movie.”

“A _real_ movie,” Hardison calls after her. “With explosions.”

“No subtitles!” Parker yells. Sophie disappears through the door. “Is she going to make us watch Xanadu again?” She asks and then, realizing it’s possible, looks at both of them with pure horror. She hurries after her, no doubt to steal any movie Sophie picks out of her hands.

“I ain’t watching roller skating again, that’s for damn sure.” Hardison picks up his phone from the table and fiddles with it. Eliot waits through the loaded silence. “I don’t know what you’re doing or why, but it’s shitty.” Hardison looks at him. “It’s hurting Parker, and just for that I should beat your ass, but I can’t even beat you at rock-paper-scissors.”

“Because you have a tell.”

“And she told me what you did. Almost did. And I want to know -- No. I deserve to know -- if you tried that with me.”

“No.”

Hardison exhales. “We’re in this together. This team. This group. This...us. Whatever we are. If it’s the sex that’s pushing you away, there doesn’t have to be sex. That’s cool. If that has to go to salvage the rest of it, then it goes.”

“It’s not the sex.”

“Because it’s not the bullshit reason you gave Parker. It’s not because you’re too close. We were all too close since the day we got back together to bring Dubenich down the first time.”

Hardison stops, and Eliot’s not sure if it’s because he’s out of words or because he’s gearing up to say something else. He starts to say something, but Hardison cuts him off. 

“I don’t care if you try to cut them out, because we’re still going to be here. And be there.” He points at Eliot. “You can’t get rid of them and you can’t get rid of us, and you can’t be too goddamned close, Eliot, because you’re inside of us. We’re inside of you. Whatever your reasons, fine. You do you. You don’t want what we got? Fine. But don’t lie about it. Have the decency not to do that.”

He presses a button on his phone and gets up, walking away as he orders the pizza. Eliot sighs and follows him, cursing Nate the whole way.

Sophie’s arguing about art and culture as she tries to keep the copy of Xanadu out of Parker’s reach. Parker’s reminding Sophie that she knows art, and that isn’t it, and how can Sophie have so many priceless works of actual art and still call such a cinematic disaster anything close to it?

Eliot glances at over at Hardison. “Been coaching her?

“Every time I throw that damn DVD away, it reappears. We’ve had lots of time to practice it.”

Eliot laughs and realizes both Parker and Hardison are right. The easy way they fall back together makes that clear. Everything clicks into place without even trying. He takes the remote from the desk and flips through channels, settling on a Jackie Chan marathon.

Hardison grabs soda and beer and Eliot hands him money for the pizza. Parker and Sophie have progressed to an actual tug of war. “You know, we could just watch this.”

Eliot glances back over the sofa and grins “You know Sophie and Parker do their own stunts too.”

Parker gives the DVD a hard jerk, wrenching it out of Sophie’s hands and shoving it under her shirt. “No! Never again!”

Shaking his head, Hardison comes around the couch to sit down then sighs. “Over before it even started.”

Sophie blows out a breath, sending her bangs dancing. She tosses her hair back. “Fine. Rot your brains.”

Parker hops over the back of the couch and wriggles until she’s wedged in next to Hardison. The doorbell rings and Sophie takes the pizza, waving off everyone else’s attempt to chip in, passing the delivery girl the money and a tip. Eliot wiggles his fingers at Hardison to return his money. Parker just ignores them, taking one of the boxes from Sophie and settling it on her lap. “Pizza.” She grabs a slice and takes a huge bite. “Where’s Nate?” She asks between chews.

“He… Oh, dear. I’m supposed to meet him for dinner. Ah. Um. With a client. Yes. Dinner with a client. Must run.”

They all watch her hurry out the door then turn to look at each other. “Is it me?” Hardison asks. “Or has her acting gotten even worse?”

“Shh. Movie on.” Parker takes another bite of pizza as she stares at the screen. Hardison throws his arm over the back of the couch, even though Parker spends most of the time leaning forward. When she does lean back, Hardison squeezes her shoulder and she spares a second to look at him.

They watch the movie and Eliot watches them. Maybe it is the sex that throws the balance off, throws his balance off. They could have that and he could have this. He tells himself he can live with just that, even while he watches Parker lean back and curl into Hardison’s side, watches Hardison’s arm tighten around her, watches her fingers trace a slow line up and down Hardison’s thigh.

He grabs the pizza boxes and takes them into the kitchen. Bracing his hands on the counter, he lowers his head against the cool granite. A few deep breaths and he’s back under control. When he goes back into the main room, they’re both asleep. He carries Parker to the bedroom first and then puts Hardison over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He grabs a throw blanket off the end of the bed and covers them. He kisses Parker lightly on the forehead then leans over her and does the same to Hardison.

He sits in the chair in the corner of the room and watches them, telling himself he’ll leave before morning.

**

That night seems to put them all back on an even keel. Parker and Hardison are actually going out on dates, and Nate’s stopped watching Eliot like he’s going to overstep his boundaries. It’s nice. Parker and Hardison come over to his house once a week for dinner and a movie when they’re not on a job. Sometimes they stay the night, sometimes they don’t. Usually when they do it’s because it’s late and one or both of them has fallen asleep. 

Neither of them tries to pressure Eliot into sleeping with them or pushing for sex, even though Eliot imagines they feel the pull as much as he does. They’re all careful not to touch unless it’s unavoidable, and accidental brushes against each other are like electrical shocks that cause them to jump apart.

Eliot disappears for a week when Toby calls. He surveys the damage and then brings him to Nate. There are only three men in his life that have made Eliot want to be a better man, and of those, Toby’s the only one who taught him how to bring something good, to _create_ something good.

**

“Show me how to feel things.”

Eliot looks at Parker and the confused expression she’s wearing. Her face is devoid of understanding, a complete lack of a frame of reference. That’s the hardest thing about Parker, because in so many ways she’s like an alien learning human behavior for the first time.

She figures some of it out, little by little, and Eliot hopes he’s helped her some by giving her a piece of himself. The truth of it is that Parker does feel, she just doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know how to relate any of it to what's happening.

After another attempt with Parker, Eliot comes out of the kitchen to find Hardison watching him. He just stands there silently for a long time, leaning on the kitchen counter of the brew pub before finally speaking. “She’s lucky.”

Eliot looks up from the shrimp he’s deveining. “What?”

“You’re patient with her.”

“You’ve got me confused with you.”

“Nah. I don’t think I do. It’s why kids like you too.”

“I've got absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Eliot shakes his head and turns his attention back to the shrimp.

“Kids hate it when you talk down to them, treat them like they’re bothering you.”

“That’s how I treat everybody.”

“Nah. Kids and Parker. They might exasperate you, drive you crazy, but you always take the time.” Hardison bats his eyelashes at him. “Eliot Spencer, you’re my heeeeeero.”

“I’m gonna knock you into next week.”

“Deny it all you want, but the truth of the matter is that Eliot Spencer is a good guy. A damn marshmallow.”

“Where?” Parker comes up behind Hardison. “Shrimp and marshmallows? Yum.”

“We’re not… That’s disgusting, Parker.” Eliot makes a face. “And we don’t have any marshmallows.”

“Au contraire. We have one giant Eliot marshmallow, mama.”

“Can we put melted chocolate on him? And graham crackers?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“No.” Eliot points the knife at them in turn. “No. No. And no.”

Parker smiles. “Grumpy marshmallow.”

“Dammit, Hardison.”

Hardison just laughs and rests his arm around Parker’s shoulders. “So, I was thinking…”

“No.”

“No? Man, you don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You’re not putting anything you make with that damn laser on my menu. Especially if it involves marshmallows.”

“Huh. Maybe you do know what I was going to say.”

“Eliot always knows.” Parker smiles at Eliot and Eliot grins back. “He’s like Santa Claus.” Eliot’s smile drops, but Parker’s doesn’t. “Are your shrimp going to make me feel something tonight? Because I feel hungry.”

“Half an hour and dinner is served. Just keep him and his laser out of my kitchen.”

**

The next job involves the Anubis gambit and Eliot and Sophie end up playing siblings. Nate’s job is to get the mark afraid they’re robbing him blind. Which they are, but they’re directing his attention to his warehouse of stolen goods, not all of his offshore accounts that he has listed under the names of adopted children he’s never actually brought to the States or taken care of.

They’re doing their best to keep Parker and Hardison in the background given their issues with the system. Sophie and Eliot assume their roles as potential buyers of the goods while Nate directs the mark to rumors of their dubious history.

“So, Eliot.” He’s sitting with Sophie at a cafe waiting for the mark. She takes out her earbud and sets it carefully on the table. Eliot raises an eyebrow and she gestures to his. 

“Really?”

She rolls her eyes, huffs a sigh, and puts her earbud back in. She mouths the word “later” to him and points a threatening finger his way. Eliot rolls his eyes in response and jerks his head toward the street where Nate and the mark are heading their way. 

“Incoming, Hardison. You and Parker set?”

“Always.”

“I still say I should be a server and dump hot coffee on him. By accident.”

“Parker, break in.”

“Fine,” she mutters. “But I’m not going to enjoy it this time.”

**

Sophie knocks on Eliot’s door that night, slipping into his room as he opens it. She steps out of the way and lets room service in, tipping the server on his way out the door. Eliot looks at the tray table and then at her. “I take it you want something?”

“I told you I did.” She hands Eliot the beer on the tray and pours herself a glass of wine. She taps her ear. “Out.”

He nods to his bedside table where his earbud sits with his phone and knife holster. “So.” He takes a drink of his beer and looks at her. “What’s so important that we need to talk about it in the middle of a job?”

She walks over to him, sipping her wine. She reaches out and touches his shoulder. “This.” He jerks away when Sophie touches the mark. Her smile widens and she nods. “I thought so.”

He rubs his shoulder through his t-shirt. “Yeah. My shoulder’s tender. What of it?”

“Who is it?”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Eliot, we’ve all seen it. But you’re acting differently since we’ve moved to Portland. More settled. Obviously you’ve met someone. Someone special.”

“Met a lot of people, Sophie.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. Or yours.”

“It doesn’t matter. Nothing’s changed. Nothing’s changing.”

“If you’ve met your soulmate…”

“Nothing’s changed, I said. It happened a while ago and everything is like it was before.”

“Eliot, it’s a precious…”

“No. It’s not. It’s something that makes people think that there’s someone out there for them. But you know what? People don’t always wait. And people aren’t always who you want them to be even if you’re their soulmate. Love’s got nothing to do with the mark.”

“Does she -- or he -- know you feel this way?”

“It’s not a secret. This isn’t going to force anyone into anything. This is just a reminder to me that there’s a piece of me that’s not stained with blood, and that it’s part of something good and happy. That’s enough.”

Sophie sighs, clearly exasperated. “You are the most stubborn, completely unaware man I have ever known, and I know Nathan Ford. You _deserve_ happiness, Eliot. We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of. And no, I’m not equating our experiences with yours. But you saw evil. You lived it. You lived in it. You reaped the benefits of it. But you know what, Eliot? _You walked away_.”

“I…”

“Don’t interrupt me. You chose to stop killing. You chose to do the job you did, the job you do, without guns. With your brains and your fists.”

“You don’t…”

“Eliot. I told you not to insult my intelligence. Hardison, Parker, and I are not stupid. We know what you did. And has a single one of us changed toward you? You did what you did because there was no other choice. You knew you might not walk out, but you made absolutely sure the people who could bring down Damien Moreau did.”

She holds her finger up to silence him when he opens his mouth. He closes it like a reprimanded child. He can feel a hot blush burning his cheeks.

“Did you enjoy it?”

He pauses before answering, making sure he’s allowed. “No. No… Chapman. But...I didn’t _enjoy_ it. But it was satisfying.”

“Well, from the little I experienced of Mr. Chapman, I would have enjoyed it. He seemed quite like the kind of person who made the bed he ended up in.” She sighs. “Before you killed for the government. You killed for Moreau. You killed because of Moreau. You killed to save more people from him. From evil.”

“I know what I’ve done, Sophie. Trust me.”

“But do you know what you do? How many lives have you saved? With us. Before us? How many times have you saved _us_?”

“It’s not…”

She slaps him across the face and they both go completely still. Her hand falls slowly, shaking like the trembling leaf it resembles on its way down. His muscles are coiled, but his hands are loose at his sides.

“Whomever it is, Eliot, let them love you. You _are_ deserving of love. And you need it. We all make each other feel human. We’re a family of loners, but that doesn’t mean we’re alone. Let them love you. I doubt very seriously that you’ll be able to stop them. You haven’t stopped us.”

Eliot moves his jaw from side to side. “Don’t ever do that again.”

She laughs and the sound betrays her nerves. “I have absolutely no intention of doing so.”

He nods and leans in, kissing her cheek then her lips, both whisper soft. “Now get out of my room.”

She looks a little dumbfounded as she presses her fingers to her lips. “Well. What a very lucky girl.”

**

Parker jumps in his truck then moves closer as Hardison climbs in and shuts the door behind him. Eliot blows out a breath and rests his forehead on the steering wheel.”Why are you in my truck?”

“Hardison and I talked about being normal, so we want to try it. And you can’t be normal in a super spy-van, so we decided you could be normal with us, since you have a truck and the most experience with normal. Except for Nate.”

He taps his forehead on the wheel, not quite gently. “What are we doing that’s normal?” It should bother him that he just accepts that he’s doing this, but he’s known them long enough and he’s honest enough with himself that he knows he’ll end up doing it no matter how much he protests.

Parker’s voice drops. “We’re going to pay for things.” She looks pained at the thought, but Hardison holds her hand and squeezes it. “We want to go to a ValueMore!”

Eliot lifts his head, debating whether to bring it down harder on the steering wheel. “ValueMore!”

“And Target,” Hardison adds.

“Ooh!” Parker raises her hand “IKEA!”

Eliot decides to spare himself the headache now when he knows he’ll end up with one later. Best to postpone the inevitable. “Why?”

“Normal.” Parker bounces in her seat. “I can’t wait!”

**

They’re heading home, bags of things they don’t need in the bed of the truck. Parker is glaring out the windshield, her lips pursed. “Being normal is awful.”

“Just because they wouldn’t let you climb up onto the top of the racks and throw things down at us…”

“Or climb up at _all_ ,” she grumbles.

“The meatballs were good.” They both look at Eliot as if he’s started speaking a different language. He shrugs. “What? They were.”

“You’re a food snob.”

“I am _not_!”

“And you just said IKEA’s meatballs are good.”

“They are. I mean, taken for what they are.”

“We’re in a bizarro world.” Hardison leans into Parker. “Eliot’s actually _being_ normal.”

“Normal sucks.” Parker crosses her arms over her chest. “Stop it. Right now. Both of you.”

Eliot laughs and throws his arm over Parker’s shoulder, tugging her in to kiss the top of her head. “Never be normal, Parker. We love you just the way you are.”

“Damn right.” Hardison reaches over and takes Parker’s arm, pulling it toward him so he can take hold of her hand and lace their fingers together. 

She smiles just a bit, resting her head on Eliot’s shoulder. He sees her glance at Hardison, then shrug as she rubs her leg before moving her hand over to Eliot’s thigh. 

“What’re you doing, Parker?”

She rubs his thigh, palm warm through his jeans. Eliot grits his teeth, trying to ignore the heat unspooling inside him. “We miss you.”

“You see me all the time.”

“See you.” Hardison nods. “But you know that ain’t what we mean.”

“Don’t mention the sexy, naked thing again.” Eliot exhales and drops his hand on top of Parker’s. He has every intention of moving it away, putting it back on her thigh. Instead he slides his fingers between hers and guides her hand higher. Parker makes a noise that sounds something like a groan, and something like triumph.

“Let’s get him home first, mama.”

She nods, but doesn’t move her hand away, squeezing Eliot’s leg before her fingers drift up to trace his fly. Eliot breathes shakily, and he has Nate and Sophie’s voices in his head. He glances at Hardison and Parker and decides he’s damn tired of listening to Nate.

**

Eliot gets to her first. He has to slide down the elevator cable from the fifteenth floor, land, grab Parker, and roll to the side of the room just to be safe. She’s grimacing, and he knows something’s wrong. “Talk to me,” he whispers.

“Landed bad. Hurts.”

“Yeah.” His hands explore her, trying to feel how serious her injuries might be. “That happens.”

“Did you punch him?”

“Yeah.”

“Really, really hard?”

“Promise.” He’s not parsing Hardison’s babble as he talks about controlling the elevators. He doesn’t focus on anyone else except Parker. “I’ve got you, darlin’.”

“Next time I’ll make sure you’re there first.”

“I’d much rather catch you than have to come after you.”

“I’d rather you catch me too.” She moves slightly and winces. “Pretty sure it’s my knee.”

He leans in and kisses her forehead. “I’ll carry you out. Bridal style or fireman’s carry?”

“Or I could just lean on you.”

“That’s an option.”

“That’s the best option.” Nate’s voice cuts through the background noise on the comms and their conversation. “Eliot, get her to the service entrance. Hardison, meet them out back. The three of you get her to the hospital. Sophie and I will meet you there.”

“Nate.”

“Eliot, we are walking out and driving away. There are currently -- how many, Hardison?”

“Six.”

“Six people trapped in an elevator caught between the 29th and 30th floor. No one’s going to look at us twice.”

“I could…”

“You can and will get Parker out.” Nate snaps. “They’re eventually going to get into the elevator and realize the readings were off and no one was inside, so--”

“Okay. Okay. We’re going.” He gets up and helps Parker to her feet, wrapping his arm around her waist to take most of her weight. It’s not far to the service entrance, but by the time they get there, Parker is sweating and pale. 

Hardison pulls up in the van and Eliot helps Parker inside. “Got ‘em, Nate. I’ll let you know when we get where we’re going. You guys be careful.”

Eliot’s torn between staying with Parker and Hardison and going back to make sure Nate and Sophie are safe. Nate’s voice stops him. “We’re fine, Eliot. Go.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He settles in the back of the van, holding Parker against him. “What aliases do we have?”

Hardison gestures to the safe beneath his computer. “Should find a Mr. and Mrs. Evans for you guys. She probably did something to her knee while Jazzercising.”

“Jazzercising?” Eliot and Parker say in unison, both sounding equally incredulous and horrified.

“I’m a little stressed! You come up with something better!”

“Sex,” Parker says. “Really awesome, athletic sex.”

Nate coughs. “Fell down some stairs. I’m assuming there’s some all-over bruising to go along with this, Paker?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “But stairs are boring.” 

“Hospitals like boring. Eliot, make sure no one thinks you’re abusing her, huh?”

“What?” His voice has a knife edge to it.

“Falling down the stairs is one of the most common excuses for victims of domestic violence. And you can be intimidating.”

“I would never…” He cuts himself off and reaches into his bag for a button-down shirt and his glasses. He changes, then pulls his hair back off his face and secures it in a ponytail.

When Hardison stops the van, Eliot swings out and scoops Parker up in his arms. He hurries through the automatic doors and lets the abject fear he’d felt when Parker had fallen show. “Help! Help. Oh, God. Someone help me!” He chokes slightly, blinking rapidly as if clearing tears from his eyes. “Please. My wife. Please.”

“He’s doing so well,” he hears Sophie murmur.

“Please.” Eliot goes to the admitting desk. “Please. She fell. She’s hurt.”

Parker is looking at him with wide eyes, and he’s not sure if it’s his not-exactly-acting or if the shock of the fall itself is finally hitting her.

“What’s your wife’s name, sir?”

Eliot keeps his arm tight around Parker, keeping her close as he digs out her ID. “Please. She fell three flights.”

“Take these forms and fill them out. We’ll get her taken care of as soon as we can. Have a seat, sir.”

Eliot settles down with Parker in his lap. She has her leg sticking out straight, and Eliot can see the pain she’s in on her face. He presses his forehead against her temple. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Her voice is strained, even though she’s trying for normal. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Well, you got a little too familiar with the ground.” He sets the clipboard on the chair next to him and reads off the questions about their demographics and Parker’s medical history. Her answers are clipped, and she’s leaning on Eliot more, her eyes closed and her mouth in a thin line. Eliot rubs one hand up and down her back while he scribbles made up answers across the form. After a moment he drops his head to her shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

“I know.” She turns her head and kisses the top of his. He wants to look at her, kiss her for real, but he keeps his head down. “And you were needed where you were, so you better not feel guilty or I’ll punch you. Somewhere that’ll hurt. I bet there’s somewhere that would hurt.”

“More than one.” He eases her into her own chair and takes the paperwork back to the desk. The ER isn’t too busy, but it’s still ninety before she’s seen. She takes out her earbud and gives it to Eliot. He palms his and puts them both in his pocket. Neither of them need to be distracted by Nate, Hardison, or Sophie still working and reworking the con.

The doctor sends her for X-rays and Eliot paces the room while he waits for them to bring her back. The nurse comes in and smiles at him. “Your wife is going to be fine.”

“I know. I’m just…”

“Newlyweds?”

“What? Oh. Yeah. Kind of.”

“I could tell. It’s clear you love each other very much.”

Eliot can feel heat crawling up his neck, though he’s not sure if it’s from the nurse’s obvious delight or the fact that she’s right. 

He’s in love with Parker.

“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” The nurse asks.

“Nothing. Just worried about her.” He shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them from crossing over his chest and adopting his usual intimidating stance. “Do you think it’ll be much longer?”

“Not too much. Would you like coffee or anything?”

He shakes his head and leans against the wall, forcing himself to take a deep breath. She comes over and pats his arm. “She’s going to be fine.” She blushes as if realizing she’s touched him, and backs away, hurrying out the door. As soon as she’s out of the room, Eliot starts pacing again.

He’s in love with Parker. He’s not allowed to be in love with her. He can love her. He does love her. But anything beyond that belongs to Hardison. He curses under his breath, telling himself exactly how much of an idiot he is.

“You’re making grumpy noises.” Parker smiles at him as they wheel her back into the room. She looks back at the guy pushing her gurney. “He makes the best grumpy noises ever.”

The intern or nurse or tech or whatever he is looks at Eliot and tilts his head toward Parker. “The pain meds kicked in.”

“I guessed.”

“The radiologist is going to read the X-rays. Once the hospitalist gets the report, she’ll be in to talk to you.”

“I’m fine.” Parker starts to get off the bed, but Eliot’s next to her immediately, wrapping his arm around her and not letting her feet touch the floor. 

“Stay on the damn bed.”

“We’re married,” she says in a loud whisper. “He’s my hubby. My snuggle bunny.”

“Let’s let them do their work, okay honey?” Eliot slides his hand under her knees and scoops her carefully back further onto the bed. “Stay there, huh?”

“Mean.” She smiles and leans against him, not moving even after the man leaves the room. “You’re always warm.”

“I think that’s just the reaction we have to each other.”

“I think you’re warm. Warm Eliot.” She turns her head and snuggles closer, inhaling as she does.

“Don’t _sniff_ me.”

“You smell good.” She looks up at him, reaching out and stroking his jaw. “We should have sex.”

“Whatever they gave you, we need to make sure no one ever gives you that again.”

“You want to, don’t you?”

“Parker.” His voice is ragged, desperate for her to stop. “Please.”

Her hand curves along his cheek. She stretches upward and her fingers dig into his neck until he leans forward. Her breath plays across his lips. Eliot swallows and closes his eyes so he can’t see her, can’t be tempted.

Of course, Parker takes that as an invitation and kisses Eliot, tongue teasing over his lips until he parts them. She makes a quiet noise and Eliot reacts on instinct, burying the fingers of one hand in her hair as the kiss deepens. 

He’s not sure how long they kiss, how much time they lose before someone clears their throat. Eliot pulls back slowly, gaze locked on Parker’s wet, swollen lips. “Um.”

“I’m Dr. Crosby.”

“David Evans.” Eliot sticks out a hand to shake the doctor’s.

“And you must be Ariel.”

“Ariel. Yup. That’s me. Ariel Evans. You can call me Parker.”

“That’s her maiden name,” Eliot says quickly, cutting Parker off. “We just got married.”

“Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to put a damper on your honeymoon. Ariel has a torn ACL.”

“What does that mean?” Parker frowns at the doctor then at Eliot. “That doesn’t sound like it means good things.”

“That means, Mrs. Evans, that you’re going to be fitted for a brace, given a set of crutches, some pain medication, and prescribed several weeks of rest.”

“Okay, but that’s all voluntary, right? I don’t have to do any of that.”

“Actually, you need to do all of it.”

“But I can’t. I can’t rest. I have things. Many things. Important things. Things that are important. Tell him, El...David. Eldavid. I have important things. _Many_.”

“What happens if she doesn’t rest?”

“Reduced leg function. Continuing pain.”

“Darlin’.” Eliot squeezes the back of her neck lightly.

Her expression darkens as she glares at the doctor, then Eliot. Eliot holds her gaze evenly until she sighs. “Fine.”

“Six weeks of bedrest. And not the honeymoon kind, I’m afraid. That’s on hold for six weeks as well.”

Parker looks at Eliot questioningly. Eliot shakes his head and sighs. “No sex.”

“Oh. Oh no. Nope. I don’t like that either. Tell him I don’t like that.”

“Understood, Mrs. Evans, but I’m pretty sure you definitely would like to have full function of your knee. So we’re going to get you fitted for a brace, get you your pain meds, and let David take you home.”

“Thank you,” Eliot says.

“No,” Parker argues. “No thank you. I don’t like any of these things, and I don’t like you.”

The doctor looks desperate to leave. “Someone else will be right in.”

He walks out and Parker glares at Eliot. “You’re supposed to be on _my_ side.”

“I am. I want you to keep being able to do what you do, and if that means taking six weeks off to do it, then you’re taking six weeks off.”

“I don’t like you anymore either.”

Eliot laughs softly, leaning in and letting his breath play across her throat. “Really?” She turns her head and kisses him hard, moaning into his mouth as Eliot reaches up and strokes his fingers over her mark. He pulls back just enough to whisper softly. “Like me now?”

Parker grabs his shoulders and pulls him back in for another kiss. He bites then sucks on her lower lip, pulling away when the door opens. Parker eyes the black brace in the guy's hands. “I don’t like that. All of this sucks.”

“Just think of it as new gear.”

She narrows her eyes, then tilts her head. “Oh. Hmm. That might be acceptable.”

Eliot grins. “I’m going to go make some calls. Don’t scare the nice man off.”

“We don’t know if he’s a nice man.”

“He’s gonna take care of you. Automatically makes him nice.” He leaves the room, smiling more as he listens to Parker interrogating the poor tech for a moment. He pulls out his phone and sighs, calling Nate.

**

Japan is a horrible idea. Neither Hardison nor Eliot want to leave Parker, and it’s clear she doesn’t want to be left. Nate talks to her for a long time while Eliot, Hardison, and Sophie go over the plan, pretending they’re not trying to listen in.

Parker doesn’t say anything to Nate and Sophie when they leave, and she’s mostly quiet with Eliot and Hardison, but her expression speaks volumes. Hardison walks over and kisses her forehead and then her mouth. “We’ll be back soon.”

“I don’t like this. You guys need me there. We’re a team.”

“Parker.” Eliot shakes his head. He doesn’t like them being separated either, though for him it’s the worry that he can’t protect them all when he’s on a different side of the world. “We’ll miss you too.”

The four of them are quiet on the drive to the airport. They’re all unsettled by leaving Parker behind. This isn’t what they do or how they work, but they have a job. Hardison glances back a few times, even when the brew pub is out of sight.

“She’ll be fine,” Sophie says, though Eliot’s not sure if the reassurance is for them or for herself.

“Yeah,” Hardison agrees. He doesn’t sound convinced, much less convincing.

“She will. She did fine without us before.” Nate’s inflection doesn’t change. “Now, let’s focus on this job. It was already going to be tough, and it’ll be more of a challenge without Parker. We all need our heads on straight.”

“I don’t like jobs with monkeys. Especially this damn monkey.” Eliot crosses his arms over his chest. He knows it’s a fruitless argument, since they’ve been having it since Nate took the job. “Monkeys are bad news all the way around. Trust me, when this is over, you’re all going to feel the same way.”

**

Even with the monkey business, Eliot loves Japan. Hardison sticks out like a sore thumb, too tall and too black. The locals stare at him when he walks around, and Eliot can see how much it bothers him. Eliot’s careful not to crowd him, because it’s clear his brain isn’t currently engaged.

“She’s fine.”

“I know sh… She who? Who’s fine?”

“It’s okay. I’m worried about her too.” Their part of the con is over for the day, and Eliot’s stretched out on one of the beds in their hotel room.

“Yeah, well, it’s your job to worry. You have it down to a science. I’m surprised you’re not freaking out because you ain’t there to protect her.” He frowns when he glances at Eliot. “Why aren’t you, for the record?”

“Needed here.” Hardison’s expression is one of serious annoyance layered over guilt. Eliot shrugs. “Need my head in the game. We’re in the middle of a con.”

Hardison snaps his laptop shut and stalks over to the bed so he can glare down at Eliot. Eliot shakes his head once. It honestly wasn’t a dig at Hardison, but he can see that Hardison’s guilt made it one. He takes Hardison’s hand and yanks him down onto the bed. He ends up halfway on Eliot and halfway beside him.

Eliot rolls them over so Hardison is fully on the mattress. His hands grip Hardison’s wrists and he pins him down. “She’d be pissed if she knew we were double checking. Worrying. Just because she’s crazy and childlike at times doesn’t mean she’s not good.”

“She’s not good. She’s the best.”

“She is. AndI have to keep reminding myself of that, because, yeah. I’m worried. I’m hoping like hell that she’s doing what she’s supposed to do because otherwise I couldn’t do this.”

“Pin me down?” Hardison tries for humor, but the joke falls flat. “Sorry, man. I just…”

“I know.” Eliot looks at Hardison for a long time, and feels a sudden familiar spike of panic run through him. Apparently his feelings for Hardison are right in line with his feelings for Parker. He leans down and brushes his lips over Hardison’s, hoping he can hide anything that might show on his face. “Of course, you’re enough trouble all by yourself. I should probably be glad she’s not here running amok.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I never get into trouble.”

“You _are_ trouble.” Eliot’s voice drops, husky where it’s caught between them. 

“That right there? That’s just mean.”

Eliot bites Hardison’s lower lip between his and kisses him. “Maybe I can make it up to you. Somehow?”

“Mm,” Hardison hums. “Maybe there’s a way. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Oh. I have no doubt.” Eliot turns his head to the side so his stubble brushes against Hardison’s jaw. “You’re a smart guy.” 

“Like a Star Trek m-mar-marathon.” Hardison groans softly and Eliot moves down to the hollow beneath Hardison’s ear. He flicks his tongue against the sensitive skin, sending a shiver through Hardison. “Christ,” he gasps.

Eliot bites the damp skin then licks it again, sliding the flat of his tongue across the bite. He doesn’t give Hardison time to recover as he repeats the actions all the way down Hardison’s throat. He tugs the collar of Hardison’s t-shirt down, concentrating on the thin skin over his collarbone. Eliot adjust the pressure of his mouth, sucking hard.

Hardison takes advantage of Eliot releasing one of his wrists to grab Eliot’s shirt to pull at it. “Off. Take it off.”

Eliot pulls back and straightens, straddling Hardison’s upper thighs. He can feel the hard press of Hardison’s cock against his own. He grinds down as he tugs his shirt off. Hardison thrusts his hips up as he wriggles out of his own shirt.

They both toss them aside, and Eliot moves back down, settling his mouth over the spot darkening on Hardison’s collarbone. Hardison rakes his fingers up Eliot’s bare back, then wraps his hands over Eliot’s shoulders. He thrusts up again, pulling Eliot down against him. “C’mon.”

“You want something?”

“Yes.” Hardison digs his fingers in. “You know what I want.”

Eliot laughs and sits back again, undoing Hardison’s jeans and easing his dick free. He strokes it. It’s long and dark, smooth against his palm. Hardison closes his eyes and arches up as best he can into Eliot’s touch.

“This?”

Hardison shakes his head as it falls back and his mouth opens. Eliot rests his free hand against Hardison’s body, the base of his cock between Eliot’s thumb and finger. His other hand keeps stroking, moving from the base to the tip, rubbing his palm over the slick head.

Hardison keeps making hot, thick sounds in his throat, his breath catching on them. His thighs tense beneath Eliot’s and he strains upward against Eliot’s weight. Eliot strokes downward once more then eases both of his hands away.

Hardison whimpers and opens his eyes. “What the hell,” he groans roughly, sounding as hazy as he looks.

“Think it’s going to be that quick and easy?” Eliot braces a hand on the mattress for support and runs his fingertips lightly over Hardison’s mark. “Plan on making this last. Making you last.”

Hardison groans again in response, trying to thrust up and find Eliot’s touch. Eliot lets him, not moving when Hardison reaches up and touches the silver sword on Eliot’s ribs. It’s Eliot’s turn to groan and it takes all his strength not to thrust down and grind against Hardison.

Hardison hooks his free hand around the back of Eliot’s neck and pulls him in, sucking on his lower lip before turning the movement into a searing, hot kiss. They’re both breathing heavily when they pull apart. Hardison huffs as Eliot pulls away. 

Eliot stands and strips off his jeans, his eyes focused on Hardison until he seems to interpret Eliot’s look and gets his own pants off. Eliot pulls the jeans the rest of the way off Hardison’s legs when he moves to the end of the bed. He grabs Hardison under the knees and pulls him to the edge of the mattress. Hardison’s breath catches, and he's still struggling for breath when Eliot sinks to his knees in front of him.

“Eliot, man.” Anything else he tries to say gets choked off as Eliot strokes Hardison once again and angles his cock toward him. Eliot takes Haridon into his mouth and sucks him in toward the back of his throat. Hardison’s thighs tense and Eliot moves his hands to them, his fingers digging into the skin as he moves along Hardison’s cock.

He takes him deep again then pulls back until just the ridge of the head catches on his lips. His tongue teases the slit and Hardison shudders as Eliot keeps it up, refusing to relent. Hardison fists his hands in Eliot’s hair, fighting against Eliot’s grip on his thighs as he tries to push deeper into Eliot’s mouth. He can tell Hardison is close as the tremors ripple beneath his hands. He sucks hard, mouth tight, then pulls back, letting Hardison slip from his mouth.

“Christ.” Hardison whines. “Come on.” His breath is coming in shallow pants, and his cock is painting his stomach with pre-come, the skin darker than normal with arousal. “Please.”

Eliot smiles and slides his hands from Hardison’s thighs to under his knees. Moving closer, Eliot pushes, getting Hardison’s knees back to his chest, spreading him open. Hardison hisses as Eliot’s tongue slides across his opening, the flat part spreading to cover all of Hardison’s hole. Eliot licks at the skin, already wet from the blow job. Eliot pushes his tongue inside Hardison, slick with spit as it moves past the puckered skin.

Hardison tries to move. He fights against Eliot’s grip to press down, press closer. Eliot holds him still as his tongue doesn’t stop, as he licks into Hardison. He sees Hardison fist his cock, so Eliot releases Hardison’s thighs to grab his wrists. He guides Hardison’s hands under his thighs, making him hold himself open.

His grunt of frustration fades when Eliot uses his hands to spread the cheeks of Hardison’s ass and press deeper, suction building as he closes his mouth over the skin. Eliot can see Hardison’s cock moving, can see the white smear of come seep from the tip and down the smooth head. Eliot pulls away to move back in and lick it off Hardison’s skin.

Hardison’s whole body shakes and then he’s coming, spilling onto Eliot’s face, flecks of white catching on his eyelashes. Hardison is breathing like he’s just run a marathon and his legs over the edge of the bed, framing Eliot.

Eliot gets to his feet and Hardison watches him as he moves to dig in his duffle bag. His cock is painfully hard; the cool hotel room air and the weight of it moving as he walks make him bite his lower lip to keep any noises inside. The heat of Hardison’s stare and the way he licks his lips as he eyes Eliot’s dick makes Eliot’s balls tighten, and he finds the condoms and lube as quickly as he can.

He moves between Hardison’s legs again. Eliot bites his lip even harder so he doesn’t lose control as Hardison’s dark gaze stays on him. He puts on the condom, grunting softly with the effort not to come, his whole body shaking with need as he lubes himself up.

Hardison lifts his legs up and Eliot grabs them, resting them over his shoulders. He presses his cock against Hardison’s wet hole and rolls his hips forward slowly. A constant pressure finally gives way to tight heat and he slides in slowly.

He sinks in until his balls are pressed against Hardison. He looks down at him through wet eyelashes, clumped together by Hardison’s orgasm. They moan in unison and then Eliot starts moving. He doesn’t -- can’t -- hold back, and the room echoes with the hard slap of skin on skin, the soft exhale that falls from Eliot’s parted lips every time he thrusts deep. It doesn’t take long before Eliot stills, every muscle bowstring-tight before dissolving into a series of violent shudders as he comes.

When Eliot opens his eyes, he’s surprised he’s still standing.

“Damn, Eliot,” Hardison whispers reverently. 

Eliot nods and eases out of Hardison. Hardison moves his legs off Eliot’s shoulders and lets them fall over the edge of the bed again. Eliot gets the condom off and tosses it in the trash can. He manages to make it to the room’s other bed and sink down, swaying slightly before he lies back, his body perpendicular to Hardison’s. He falls asleep almost immediately, Hardison’s rush of babbling like a lullaby.

**

When they get back from Japan there ends up being a zombie movie marathon until Nate, Sophie, and Amy are all asleep. Parker and Hardison get Amy into the guest room and Eliot manages to wrangle Nate and Sophie into the pseudo-apartment next door. He goes back to Hardison’s, where both he and Parker are waiting for him. Before he can say anything, they each grab a hand and guide him to the bedroom.

They lie there together with Eliot in the middle. Parker’s still hurt and Eliot and Hardison are exhausted. Parker moves closer to rest her head on Eliot’s shoulder, her hand reaching across him to take Hardison’s. Their joined hands rest on Eliot’s stomach. He closes his eyes, not fighting any of it and just letting himself feel.

Parker breaks the silence with a loud whisper. “One of you is going to give me the sex details, right?”

She and Hardison squeeze hands on his stomach even before Eliot points his finger at Hardison. “Him. Go to sleep, Parker.”

“Hmph.”

**

The Kesselman job goes smoothly; then everything goes to shit. He knows he should have been expecting it. He can’t remember a single time Plan A actually worked until this job. 

Riley’s call bothers him more than he likes to admit. Not just because it’s a reminder of everything he used to be, but because it means he’s going to have to be that guy again. Or pretend to. But then he looks at Hardison and Parker, and he knows that’s not exactly true.

They work in unison. They’re all the best at what they do, but they’re better together. Getting the info from Riley uses all three of them, and there’s no bloodshed. They thwart the sniper with a couple of aerosol cans, a scooter, and some well-placed fists, which is how they do things, how he does things now. They still get arrested, which pisses him off. He would have fought if it had been anyone but Vance, which is why he’d done it. Because he doesn’t know Parker or Hardison, but he knew Eliot a long time ago when he was someone he hasn’t been in a long time. And he was there when Eliot stopped being him too.

The seconds are counting down in his head, even though he doesn’t know what or when they’re counting down to. He can still hear the clock ticking, and he knows that, whatever it is, it’s bad. Very bad.

“Where do we start?” Parker asks.

“We start with getting you two on a plane out of here. You didn’t sign up for this. Trust me.”

“And you?” Hardison sounds like he’s annoyed, amused, and disappointed in equal measure. “You’re going to handle this by yourself?” He gestures around the van. “Come on. She’s a lady, man. She needs the right touch. What are you going to do with your big punching hands? Punch the screen? No.”

Parker shuts off his last line of defense with a sharp look. “We agreed we all change. Better or worse, we change together.”

Sometimes Eliot hates them. He loves them, but even if it’s never the strongest emotion, hate’s always there. He also kind of hates himself for giving in, but he knows that he can’t say no to them. He’s fairly certain that would be true without the marks forever in their skin, but with them… Eliot has stopped lying to himself about who they are, what they are, what they mean to him.

Everything.

When they find the flu virus and they all run, Eliot wants the two of them to keep on running, but instead he’s got some stupid Star Trek quote in his head, and he knows that he needs them -- both of them -- now more than ever. Of course then there’s a claymore.

Because why wouldn’t there be? 

He holds Hardison by the waistband and then Parker does... whatever what she does is called, and nobody dies. Nobody even gets a scratch. They may have had their lifespans shortened just from fright, but Eliot can live with that.

What he can’t live with is people trying to kill him and his friends. More than friends. He forces that thought to the back of his mind, too busy and -- if he’s honest with himself -- far too unprepared to let what they mean to him truly surface. Fortunately, getting to Udall takes all his focus and, by the time they find him, they’re all at full speed, in each other’s head. Eliot knows it’s not just the earbuds, but the years of working together that makes them a well-oiled machine, but sometimes he feels the flare of his marks whenever they all move in unison, in sync.

The thought distracts him for a fraction of a second, but even if it hadn’t he wouldn’t have been able to avoid the bullet. His shoulder lights up with pain, but he keeps going, all of them ducking behind the dividers to try and defuse the bomb.

He knows without a doubt that they’re going to beat this, but the sheer certainty of the feeling hits him hard. It’s not just that they won’t fail. It’s that they _can’t_ fail, because the entire five years they’ve been working together would be in vain and none of them are willing to let that happen. They’ll succeed because Hardison is the smartest man he knows,and Parker’s the smartest woman he’s met.

She disarms her second bomb in two hours, and Eliot just stares, a little overwhelmed by how much she and Hardison love each other. It’s written in their expressions, in the way they look at each other. He aches with it and the fact that that look is the one reason he’ll never let them know how he feels. It’s a sharp pain, just as hot as the one burning in his shoulder, against his ribs.

It’s the right kind of pain, a soothing kind of heat, though. The two of them have that bond, stronger than anything Eliot could give them.

Udall starts firing and Eliot’s beginning to worry whether Vance was right and he’s getting soft, since the punch he’d given Udall didn’t keep him down. Counting the bullets, he looks at Parker. She nods because she gets it. They do what needs to be done. They’re alike. Always have been. There’s too much in their look, and he wonders if she knows what he’s saying with his. He hopes that, somehow, she does, because there’s one bullet left in the gun, there’s aerosolized death in her hands, and Hardison doesn’t know what’s about to happen.

She nods at Eliot and turns to Hardison, leaning in. “For luck?”

It’s a short, soft kiss, and both of Eliot’s marks light up, burning in his skin. He and Parker move as one in opposite directions. The bullet pierces his thigh and pure adrenaline pounds through his blood. He says a prayer to a god he hasn’t believed in for a long time that Parker and Hardison are okay. Not that they’ll do the job. Because he knows they will. But he needs more than that for them.

He ignores the stretcher the paramedics bring down, but he does let them do a rudimentary bandaging of his wounds. Both bullets were through-and-through, so he’ll stitch himself up with a mirror and possibly Parker’s help.

He can see her and Hardison watching as Vance talks to him, and he can tell by the hint of a smile they’re both wearing that they know his answer, no matter the question, is no. It’s easy to walk away from Vance. Easier to walk toward them.

“He takes getting shot very lightly,” Hardison says as he gets under one of Eliot’s arms to support him, and Parker gets under the other. “Told you you needed us.”

Eliot nods. “I told you I needed you.”

“Huh.” Eliot can see Hardison’s grin out of the corner of his eye. “Guess you’re smarter than you look.”

**

“Get two.” 

Parker’s brow furrows as she frowns. “What? Two what?”

“Rooms.”

She looks at Eliot for a moment then turns to Hardison. “Huh?”

“The rooms, Parker,” Eliot says. “Get two rooms.”

“Why? A king’s big enough for all of us. Or we can get two queens if you’re all ouchy.”

“It’s not about me.” She’s still frowning and Hardison shrugs like he’s just as confused. Eliot sighs. “It’s for you two.”

“We need separate rooms?”

“No!” Eliot takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before exhaling slowly. “So you two can be alone. Together.”

“We can have sex with you there. We do that. The three of us.”

“It’s not about sex.” He looks at Hardison for support, surprised that he’s not there. He must be hurt more than he thought if his situational awareness seems to be gone.. Eliot scouts the room and finds him at the reception desk. He nods toward the elevators, so Parker picks up the duffle bags and Eliot walks slowly behind her. 

Hardison comes over to the elevators and they wait, not speaking. They stay just as silent on the way up to the seventh floor, and Eliot lets himself lean on Hardison as they make their way down the hall. Hardison unlocks the door to a room and gestures Parker in first.

Eliot holds his hand out for a keycard. “Where’s mine?”

“Go inside, Eliot.”

“Dammit, Hardison! I told you to get two.”

Hardison doesn’t move as he stares at Eliot. More than that, he looks as immovable as Eliot usually does. “Go inside.”

Parker is sitting on the bed, bouncing on the mattress. She doesn’t stop when they walk in, though she does keep her gaze on Eliot until Hardison has him settled in a chair. Eliot starts to get up, but Hardison puts a hand on Eliot’s good shoulder and shoves him back down. “Sit. Shut up.” He raises his eyebrows as if daring Eliot to argue with him. “You’re not doing this.”

Eliot’s gaze darts to Parker who is nodding. He starts to reach up to rub the bridge of his nose using his right hand and winces, dropping it back down to use his left. “Look, I appreciate this. It’s real nice and noble of you, but it’s bullshit.”

“ _That’s_ bullshit.” 

Hardison glares at Eliot, but he refuses to let it get to him. “Today was a _lot_. You guys need some time alone.”

“No. No we don’t. We need _you_ here, Eliot. We’re a team. The three of us.”

“You’re a _couple_.” Eliot tries to stand up, his good hand digging into the fabric of the chair to try to get some leverage. He makes it a couple of inches before dropping back down onto the cushion. “You need some damn privacy.”

“No we don’t,” Parker says. “We don’t need privacy from you.”

Eliot drops his head back and stares at the ceiling. “Parker, you could have died today. You remember when Hardison was in the coffin? How you needed the time together after?”

She makes a face, and Hardison looks uncomfortable. Eliot doesn’t like thinking about it any more than they do. “Well you got shot. Twice. You could have died today too. So maybe we shouldn’t let you be alone.” She smiles smugly and bounces again. “We do need supplies though.”

“I got us covered, mama.”

Eliot groans. “She means to sew me up, Hardison. Unless you’ve got a first aid kit with suture line in it with your condoms and lube…”

“Like I said.” Hardison opens one of the duffle bags and pulls out a kit. “I got us covered.”

Parker disappears into the bathroom as Eliot sighs in defeat. Hardison opens the lid and pulls out a small pair of scissors. Eliot looks down. “Good thing I’m not too attached to this shirt.”

“You want me to cut it or you want to rip it off like you’re some sort of macho wrestler?”

“Stop talking and give me the scissors.”

“Or I can just cut it because you’re not doing this alone. You’re not alone anymore.” Parker walks out of the bathroom carrying a washcloth and a towel. Hardison uses Eliot’s distraction to cut his shirt open, then eases it off of him. “Shit, Eliot.”

“What?” He looks at his shoulder, seeing the bandages and bruises he expected. “It always looks like that.”

“Not that.” Hardison reaches out and runs his finger down from Parker’s mark to his own.

“Ooh! That’s pretty!”

Eliot shivers at Hardison’s touch and looks down. There’s a dark line that runs diagonally across Eliot’s chest from one mark to the other. “What the hell?”

“That’s new.” Parker comes closer and leans in to inspect it and, because it’s Parker, poke at it. “Do you have a new one? Did you meet a new soulmate?”

“No. Shit. No.” Eliot rubs his hand over his chest. The line feels slightly raised like a new tattoo. “Let’s--” It bisects his sternum. “Let’s get me stitched up.” Parker goes into action, taking off Eliot’s bandage and cleaning the wound again. Eliot supervises as she stitches him up front and back before re-bandaging him. 

There’s a knock on the door and Eliot tenses, but Hardison opens it and takes the cart from the room service waiter. Eliot can see that he actually tips the guy, which means he doesn’t have to yell at Hardison. He’s grateful for that, because his head is starting to pound out a hard rhythm. Hardison snags a beer off the cart and brings it over for Eliot, opening it for him before handing it over. 

Eliot nods his thanks. When he lifts the bottle to take a drink, Parker’s hand blocks it. She takes advantage of his open mouth and shoves two pills past his lips. “Codeine.”

“I don’t want drugs, Parker.”

“Take it. You’re going to hurt. This will make it less bad.”

Eliot growls then takes a pull off his beer to swallow them down. He sticks his tongue out at Parker’s grin and she giggles, reaching out to grab it. Eliot pulls it back into his mouth to keep it out of her fingers. “Happy now?”

Hardison takes a drink from his glass of orange soda. “After that one it’s water for the blood loss.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eliot takes another drink and closes his eyes for a moment.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Parker jabs him with her finger. “You need to take off your pants.”

Eliot doesn’t open his eyes, but he does raise an eyebrow. “Not really in the mood, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I’m talking to Hardison.” She eases Eliot’s arm over her shoulder. Hardison gets under his good shoulder and they both help him stand. Once he’s on his feet, Hardison undoes Eliot’s fly before unwrapping the bandage around his thigh. He moves around and squats down to help Eliot out of his boots and his jeans. 

“Good thing you didn’t go commando today, dude.”

“I don’t think so,” Parker says with a pout. “Eliot’s nice when he’s naked.”

“You got a point.”

“I hate you both.”

“Shut up, lean over, and hold onto the back of the chair.”

“Told you I’m not in the mood.” Eliot tries to joke as does as he’s told, knowing he’s too slow to get away. He can’t even seem to outmaneuver Hardison’s hands turning him around. He braces himself, gritting his teeth against the pain as Parker starts working at cleaning the exit wound in the back of his thigh.

It feels like hours before they turn him around, setting him down so he can spread his legs. Blood darkens the edges of the bullet hole. Parker wipes it away carefully as she kneels between his legs and starts cleaning the wound in earnest. 

Hardison burns the needle for the fourth time. Eliot closes his eyes, sucking in air each time the needle pierces his skin. He tries to focus on the way Parker’s hair brushes his bare leg, the weight of Hardison’s fingers pressing into his skin. “You okay, man?” Hardison asks quietly, his grip tightening.

“Fine,” Eliot hisses.

“All done.” Parker rubs Eliot’s knee before pressing a bandage over her handiwork. “I could be a girl scout.”

“Not sure this would qualify, babe.”

“Maybe,” Eliot says. He can feel the drugs kicking in and hears his drawl thickening as a result. “Sewing and first aid. Works for me.”

“See?” Parker grins then pokes Eliot lightly in his good arm. “You sound all southern.”

“Am, darlin’.” He reaches down and cups her chin, his thumb stroking her cheek. “Did good today.”

“We all did.”

Eliot gives her a lazy smile. “Yeah.”

Hardison strokes his hand through Parker’s hair. He’s close enough that Eliot can feel the heat of him against his leg. “Why don’t you shower first?”

Parker gets smoothly to her feet and leans in to give Eliot a soft kiss. “Don’t run off.”

“Not gonna be running anywhere for a while.”

“Well, don’t _try_.”

Hardison snorts a laugh. “She’s got you there.”

“Shut up. I still got one good arm and one good leg. Kick your ass easy.”

“Mm-hm.” Hardison moves his hand from Eliot’s shoulder and curves it around the back of his head instead. He starts running his fingers through the now-shorter hair. Eliot hums quietly and Hardison scratches his scalp. “Need to stop getting shot, man.”

“Don’t do it on purpose.” Eliot lets his head drop forward and Hardison’s fingers concentrate on the base of Eliot’s scalp.

“Sometimes I wonder.”

Even drugged Eliot can sense the change in the air when Parker opens the bathroom door. He opens his eyes and lifts his head just enough to see her, careful not to dislodge Hardison’s hand. Parker tucks the top of her towel in to keep it secured. “I saved you some hot water. Better get in there.”

Hardison nods, combing his fingers through Eliot’s hair again before heading to the bathroom. He kisses Parker softly as he passes her. She smiles and slaps his ass as he walks past. His voice squeaks. “Really?”

She giggles and walks over to Eliot, sitting on the floor between his legs. She leans against his inner thigh and closes her eyes. Her wet hair sticks to his skin, the drying ends tickling him. He reaches down and catches a thick strand, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Are you going to get dressed?”

“I’m wearing a towel.”

“And that’s close enough?”

She nods. “Yeah.” Turning her head, she kisses his thigh at the edge of the bandage. “You need to stop, you know.”

“Stop what?”

“Hardison and I are good. More than good. You don’t have to keep trying to push us at each other. Away from you.”

“I’m not.” He hates the looseness the codeine gives him, the way it seems to soften all his edges and make the walls he’s built up crumble.

“You are.” She kisses him again, her tongue darting out to brush at the dark wiry hairs. “You’re ours.”

“You guys are together, Parker. Separate from me. You need you time. You and Hardison time.”

“You got shot today. Twice. We all could have died from the flu. But you could have died even though we stopped it.”

“He didn’t hit anything vital. I wasn’t going to -- _Ow_!” Parker sinks her teeth into Eliot’s thigh, pulling slightly at the tape holding on the gauze bandage. “What the hell, Parker?”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb,” Hardison says as he comes toward them, toweling his head. “And say I think that means you’re supposed to shut up.” Another towel is tucked around Hardison’s hips. The lamplight catches the water droplets on his dark skin, making it glow. “Look, we get what you’re saying. We do. And you’re right. We need time for the two of us. But now ain’t that time. You know what it feels like, Eliot? When your soulmate takes a bullet?”

Parker doesn’t wait for him to answer. “Not good.”

“KInd of an understatement. We know you got hurt before us. Hell, you get hurt _for_ us. But what happened before this all got real wasn’t like it is now.”

Parker nods. “So shut up and let us take care of you, okay?”

“You have taken care of me. I’m fine. Stitched up, drugged up, already healing.”

“Is he really this dumb?” Parker asks, and Eliot’s not sure if she’s talking to herself or Hardison. He stops trying to figure it out as she shifts onto her knees and places a kiss against the soft cotton of his boxer briefs over the head of his cock.

“Parker.” He reaches down to push her away, but the second he touches her, they both jerk like they’ve been electrocuted. Parker moans softly and kisses him again, closing her mouth around him through the fabric. Her hot breath traps him, and her teeth scrape lightly as his dick fills out and hardens.

Hardison kneels behind Parker and unhooks her towel. He reaches around her and palms her bared breasts, but his eyes are trained on Eliot. Parker shivers and her back arches slightly. She pulls away from Eliot for a moment to sway back toward Hardison.

Eliot sees Parker’s nipples darken with pressure as Hardison pinches them. Her mouth opens slightly and she turns her head and catches Hardison’s mouth in a kiss. Eliot watches, and he knows his body shouldn’t be reacting. He knows he should be too punch-drunk and drugged to want them, want this right now. He shouldn’t be feeling the heat of arousal coiled inside him, sending flames through his blood. But it is and his good arm slips down so he can rub his cock through his underwear.

Even without looking, Parker’s able to reach out and grab his wrist before he can touch himself. She breaks the kiss with Hardison. “Nope. My job.”

“You were busy.” He could watch them for hours, so it’s not a complaint. “Don’t let me interrupt.” 

She laughs and turns her hand so she can lace her fingers with his. “We’re all busy.”

Hardison laughs as well. “You’re stuck with us, Eliot.” He leans in and kisses Parker’s throat. “What d’you think, Parker? Actions speak louder than words with this guy, huh?”

“I think you’re right.” Parker releases Eliot’s hand and grabs the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging them down to expose his erection, the opaque pearl of pre-come at the tip. He braces himself with his good leg and lifts his hips. Parker strips him, not even waiting until the fabric is mid-thigh before she takes him into her mouth.

Eliot groans, his head falling back as Parker sucks him deep, the wet pressure bringing him to full hardness. She tightens around him and traps his cock between the roof of her mouth and the slide of her tongue.

“Damn, that never gets old.” Hardison’ voice is hot, hungry and Eliot lifts his head to look him in the eye. Hardison shakes his head. “Look at you.”

Eliot lets his eyes drop, watching Parker’s head move as he slides in and out of her mouth wet and slick with her spit. “Should see it from my side.”

“Dunno.” Eliot looks back up as Hardison stands and drops his towel. His cock is hard and he strokes it a couple of times as Eliot watches.

“Trust me, man.” The words are rough, and he can’t help but drop his eyes back down to Parker’s mouth.

Hardison grabs Parker’s hips, and she lets him move her, never breaking her rhythm. She’s going slow, never enough to get Eliot too close. “Should see her. Pink and wet. Not sure what to do. My tongue? My fingers? My dick?”

Parker makes a noise and the sound reverberates around Eliot. He gasps in a mixture of pleasure and pain as his muscles tense.“T-tongue first,” he bites out.

Hardison nods, walking over to the duffles and grabbing a condom. He comes back and sinks to his knees. Eliot feels the moment Hardison’s tongue touches Parker, can feel the hot shuddering breath that fans through the hair at the base of his cock.

He reaches out and strokes her hair, listening and feeling every noise. She’s given up on a rhythm as Hardison works her over, largely just breathing roughly around Eliot, her noises skimming over his sensitive skin.

She whines when Hardison pulls away, but he straightens up and slowly pushes inside her. Parker pulls off of Eliot with something between a gasp and a moan.

“View still good, Eliot?” Hardison’s voice is low, thick with sex, and it sends shivers through Parker and him both.

Eliot croaks out a laugh, then a gasp as Parker draws him back between her lips. “You look good with Parker all over your face.”

“Damn right.” Hardison settles his hands on Parker’s hips as he pulls back, holding her as he pushes inside her and thrusts. Up until now their movements have been lazy and easy, more of a slow tease up to the edge. With Hardison pushing into Parker, they all fall into the same rhythm, the same steady flow of strokes.

Eliot combs his fingers through Parker’s hair, his hips rolling up to meet her as she sucks him, saliva leaking down his cock to his balls. He whispers, just loud enough to hear. “So good. Both of you. So... “

“Yours,” Hardison gasps. His thrusts get harder, faster and Parker responds in kind around Eliot’s cock. “Yours, Eliot. Both… both of us.”

“Feel so…” He’s close, caught in Parker’s mouth, in Hardison’s gaze. “Both…” He licks his lips and shivers, his body going taut, then falling apart as Parker swallows him down. She pulls off and rests her head on Eliot’s thigh, breathing hard as Hardison keeps moving.

Eliot feels the noises she’s making, can tell by the change in the pitch of her voice that she’s close. She bites Eliot’s thigh again when she comes, and he gasps. Hardison does the same, the sound accompanied by a jerk, stilling immediately after. He doesn’t move, buried deep inside Parker.

Eliot’s head falls back. It feels like the pain killer, the blood loss, his orgasm all hit him all at once as the adrenaline of the day fades. He closes his eyes and exhaustion washes over him. He’s not sure if he passes out or falls asleep, but he doesn’t remember anything after that. 

**

“What are you doing here, Parker?” Eliot hasn’t even turned on the light, but he knows she’s there. Probably with yet another bag of chocolate she’d bought at the candy store in Apple Springs.

She snaps on the lamp and tilts it so it’s aimed at him. “You took that girl on a date. Going out with eating is a date.”

“It can be.” He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of a chair. “What’s your point?”

“Did you have sex with her?”

“Excuse me?” Eliot’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t care.” He opens the door. “Out.”

“No.”

Eliot walks behind the couch where Parker is sitting cross-legged. He catches her under her arms and picks her up. She refuses to unbend, so he carries her outside and puts her in the hallway, leaving her on the floor as he goes back inside, shutting the door behind him.

He snaps off the light then climbs the stairs to his bedroom. She’s climbing in the window as he walks in. “Dammit, Parker.”

“You went away and then you came back and dated her, and you didn’t come and see us, and my candy is still on your couch.”

“Go get your damn candy, and go home.”

“Are you going to see her again?”

Eliot can’t quite get a read on her voice, the rhythm of it falling too much into the one she had when they first started, uneven and flat. He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s nice. Because she’s beautiful. Because I want to. Because she’s normal. Not like us. Because she’s funny.”

“Because you want to have sex with her.”

“It’s not about sex, Parker!”

She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes go wide at him raising his voice, and she bolts to the window and disappears.

“What the hell, Parker?” Eliot groans and shuts the window. He strips down to his boxer briefs, then tugs on a pair of pajama pants. He stretches out on the bed and looks up at the ceiling. His fingers run along the line on his chest. It had been a nice date. It -- and she -- had been everything he said, everything he could have been, everything his father wanted him to be. He’d watched her. He’d actually _looked_ at her and imagined a life. A little house with a yard, a garage where he could work on his car on the weekends, a small garden in the back where he could grow his own food. A normal life in a small town where people knew your name.

He saw that life, saw her in it. But he doesn’t fit. There’s too much blood, too much danger, too many demons. How could he explain a price on his head in several countries, multiple off-shore accounts, enough money to buy and sell the whole town? 

He can’t. 

He has trouble looking back sometimes. The team has trouble with it as well. That being the case, there’s no way he could build a real life on the ashes of his past.

And he’d go insane by the end of the first month.

So they’d had dinner, he’d taken her home, kissed her softly, said goodbye, and driven back to Portland

Eliot sighs, still tracing the line -- the other reason he can’t live that life -- beneath his fingertips. Parker. Hardison.

He knows they’re in love. He knows that they’re going to be together and make it work. He knows that who and what they are is precious and delicate. What he doesn’t know is where he fits in all of that. But he can’t leave them. He _won’t_ leave them unless they tell him to go. The mark on his shoulder is Parker, and the one on his ribs is Hardison, but the line is all him. He can feel it as he follows the path from one mark to the other. The line is proof that, even if he doesn’t have the guts to say the words, he’s theirs. 

However they want him. However they’ll have him.

And it scares the shit out of him.

**

Hardison is waiting outside Eliot’s door the next day with two large pizza boxes, a case of beer, and two two-liter bottles of his toxic orange soda. Eliot frowns. “Did we have plans?”

“Do you have other plans?”

“No.”

Hardison hands him the pizza. “Then, yes. Yes, we did.”

Eliot laughs and carries the pizza to the coffee table. “You hate coming to my place.”

“That’s because you live in a neanderthal cave. A TV that makes the Flintstones’s set look new. No internet. What the hell are we supposed to do here? Play solitaire and sharpen our knives?”

“Are you saying that, since I don’t have a thoussand channels, a desktop, a laptop, a tablet, and an e-reader, not to mention a gang of orcs, my life is unfulfilling.”

“You’re reading something, aren’t you? Probably Sartre or something that real people don’t read. You’re secretly a stodgy old professor. You’ve got tweed somewhere in here. Tweed with corduroy patches.”

Eliot glances down at his bare chest and his low-slung pajama pants before looking up. Hardison is still busy following Eliot’s gaze downward, and when he finally meets Eliot’s eyes again, he swallows.

“Not that you wouldn’t rock the tweed, man. You’d be on the cover of _Tenured_ magazine or something. Voted sexiest man currently inhabiting the space-time continuum assuming that we’re all real and not just physical manifestations of the subconscious mind.”

“Stop talking.” Eliot smirks at Hardison. “Man, if this is what today’s going to be like, you should have brought a hell of a lot more beer.”

“Next con. You’re wearing tweed. Professor Ignatius Plum. Tweed and glasses. You’re gonna be the Indiana Jones teacher. Girls painting ‘I love you’ on their eyelids. Boys too probably.”

“You’re really cementing the fact that you have a death wish.” Eliot shakes his head and sits on the couch. Hardison joins him as Eliot opens the pizza box. “So, really. What’s this about?” He knows the answer. The answer spent part of the previous night sitting in the exact same spot Hardison is in right now.

“You went and saw your dad.”

“No.”

Hardison sounds cautious, which is probably the first time he’s actually respected the fact that he’s entering dangerous territory. “That’s where you went though, right?”

“Lights were on. TV was on. I knocked. He didn’t answer. Some things you can’t fix.”

It’s clear Hardison is biting back saying he’s sorry, but it’s also clear that he knows that’s not what Eliot wants or needs to hear. Eliot doesn’t have room for that kind of sorry in his life.

“Yeah.” Hardison takes a piece of pizza then sets it back down on the lid of the box. “You’ve got us though. That ain’t gonna change.”

“I know.” Eliot clears his throat to get rid of the gruffness in his voice. He grabs the piece of pizza Hardison had left on the box and takes a bite. “What's everyone else up to?”

“I don’t want to know what Nate and Sophie are up to, so I’ll leave that up to you to imagine. It’s way too much like when you realize your parents are still having sex. It’s creepy.”

“They’re not all that much older than me, you know.”

“Yeah. But you’re _you_.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He’s not sure if he should be offended or if it’s even worth it to be. “Because of what we are I’m not creepy? What if Nate had your mark? Would he still be creepy?” Eliot tries not to laugh at the horrified expression on Hardison’s face, but he doesn’t quite manage it.

“That’s just… I’m never going to be able to look at Nate again.”

Eliot turns his head to bury his smile against Hardison’s shoulder. “Your face, man.”

“You have no idea how much I hate you right now.” Hardison’s glare doesn’t stop him from squeezing Eliot’s thigh, though it’s hard enough to be more of a punishment than teasing.

“Enough to leave?”

“You want me to?” Hardison is suddenly wary, and Eliot rolls his eyes, putting his arm along the back of the couch. His fingers stroke lightly along the curve of Hardison’s shoulder. Hardison closes his eyes and Eliot nuzzles his temple.

“No.”

Hardison turns his head, eyes still closed. He breathes against Eliot’s mouth before capturing it in a kiss. Curving his hand along Eliot’s cheek, he tilts his head up. Eliot lets Hardison guide him and control the kiss.

Hardison’s tongue slides against Eliot’s, tangling with it. He hums softly and Eliot huffs a laugh into the kiss. Hardison bites the tip of Eliot’s tongue in retaliation before sucking on it. This time Eliot hums, and Hardison pulls back. 

“That tickles.”

“Why d’you think I laughed?”

“Because you were being a dick.”

Eliot shrugs and laughs again. “Okay, that’s a valid assumption.”

“See? Now you are being one.” Hardison crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t like you any more. For real this time, so don’t think kissin’ me or whatever’s gonna change that.”

“All right.” Eliot shrugs, but he’s smiling. He leans forward and grabs a slice of pizza and the TV remote. He turns the TV on, tosses the remote on the table, then leans back, taking a big bite of pizza. “What do you wanna watch?”

Hardison glares at him and grabs the second pizza box, tugging it onto his lap. “I’m eating this whole pizza by myself.” He grabs a slice from the box and Eliot leans over before Hardison can move and takes a bite of the slice.

“You are a dead man.” Hardison shoves the box back onto the coffee table, dropping his slice on top. “Dead.”

Eliot stuffs the last bite of his pizza slice in his mouth. “Yeah?”

Hardison pushes the table away with his foot and turns on Eliot. Eliot catches him, hands on Hardison’s ribs. Hardison’s momentum combines with the reaction they both get when Eliot touches Hardison’s mark and Eliot goes back, hitting his head on the arm of the couch, and the solid thunk against the wood is loud even over the sound of the TV.

“Shit. Oh shit. Eliot.”

“Shut up.” He sounds gruff, almost angry, but his touch is light as he rubs his thumb over Hardison’s mark. He spreads his legs slightly and Hardison settles between them. “I’m fine. Takes a lot more than that.”

“You have any idea what Nate would do if I gave you a concussion?”

Eliot wraps his leg over the back of Hardison’s. “Relax. Pizza. Watch the game. Hang out.”

“Uh. Yeah. About that.”

Eliot goes completely still, even the rise and fall of his chest seemingly non-existent. “Yeah?” He manages to make his voice sound normal. He’s a better grifter than Sophie gives him credit for. “You don’t want to hang out?”

“Nah. I mean, yeah. I want that. Just wondering if we’re all cool.”

“This is about last night.” He moves Hardison off of him easily and gets to his feet. He grabs a beer and opens it, taking several pulls from the bottle.

“She was worried.”

“She was worried I had sex with Tabitha.”

“Yeah, well, we both were a little.”

“I have sex with other people.”

“Yeah, but this wasn’t just sex with another person. This was a girl. An Aimee. A Kaye-Lynn.”

“Because she was a client?”

“No, man. She’s the kind of girl that you look at. The kind of girl you… You like.”

“I look at a lot of girls. I _like_ a lot of girls. Women.”

“Not like you look at them. Her. Like you’re seeing something beyond breakfast and a goodbye.”

“And I’m not supposed to have that.” He’d thought the same thing himself last night, but that doesn’t make the fact that everyone knows it sting any less. “You all get a… You all get something and I get one-night stands.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I get what I deserve.”

“That’s _definitely_ not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.”

“No, actually. It ain’t. I meant neither of us want to lose you. And, yeah, it’s damn selfish, but that’s the truth.” Hardison stands up and faces Eliot. “You think you don’t deserve this, or maybe you think it’s some sort of trap or trick, but damn it, Eliot, would you just accept the fact that we want you around. And so did she.”

“I gave all that up years ago. The man I am now…”

“If you say something about deserving it again, I _will_ beat the shit out of you.”

“I couldn’t live like that.”

“Caged animal.” It’s not a question, but Eliot nods all the same. “Well. You know, me and Parker. We ain’t so bad.”

“You and Parker are everything.” He doesn’t mean to say it, and he doesn’t mean for it to sound like what he actually wants to say. But he sees Hardison’s eyes widen and knows that he did and it did. 

“You mean that?”

Eliot clenches his jaw and shrugs one shoulder.

“No. I’m gonna need a yes or a no here.”

He feels the muscle in his jaw twitch and manages to spit out a rough sound. “Call Parker.”

Hardison’s eyes stay locked on Eliot as he nods, tracking him like he would a threat. He reaches for his phone and hits the button for Parker. “Hey, mama. Can you come to Eliot’s? No. No. Just. It’s important.”

Eliot hears the faint buzz of Parker’s voice. Hardison shakes his head and laughs softly, Parker still talking.

“There’s pizza.” Hardison says finally, which stops whatever Parker’s saying. “So c’mon, okay?” He hangs up a moment later. “She says five minutes.”

Eliot nods and finishes off the beer in his hand then grabs another. He exhales shakily and sits down in the armchair. He feels exposed, as stripped bare as he had when he’d told the team about Moreau. He holds his beer loosely between two fingers and lets it dangle between his legs. Resting his elbows on his knees, he bows his head.

Hardison doesn’t say anything, which Eliot is grateful for. There’s the hiss of him twisting the cap off of his soda, but nothing more than that. He hears Parker opening the kitchen window, the whisper-soft sound of her feet hitting the floor. He can hear the frown in her voice. “What happened?”

“Come sit.” Hardison says, rubbing the cushion beside him. She eyes him warily but comes over, settling next to him. She glances in Eliot’s direction then quickly away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing's wrong.” Hardison settles his hand on her thigh. “Relax.”

“You told me to come over. So what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Parker,” Eliot says before taking another drink. He clears his throat and raises his head. She frowns at him and crosses her arms, hands on her shoulders. He can see the tension in her posture, can tell when her fingers touch his mark.

“Is this about last night? Are you breaking up with us? I don’t like that. You’re not allowed.”

“You don’t actually get a say in that.” Eliot frowns then shakes his head. “But I’m not. l. That’s not what we’re talking about.”

Her frown deepens and she looks from Eliot to Hardison suspiciously. “I don’t understand.”

“Christ.” Eliot drains his beer in just a couple of swallows, and he’s pretty sure he’s not drunk enough for this conversation. “I know… I know you two are together and that’s… That’s what’s important. What matters.” He exhales and he can’t look at either of them. “But… The two of you mean…”

Parker reaches down and grabs Hardison’s hand, squeezing it tight enough that Hardison’s skin beneath Parker’s fingers blanches.. Eliot’s heart is pounding in his ears.

But he’s never been a coward. “I… _I’m_ in love… “ He hears Parker's gasp. “With you,” He clarifies to make sure they both know what he’s saying. “The two of you.”

Parker’s up and moving before either of them can blink. She disappears out the window she came in through. Eliot closes his eyes, nods, then lets his head drop.

“You should go after her.” There’s no inflection in his voice, and it hurts to swallow around the knot in his throat. 

“Eliot…”

“Go. Make sure she’s okay.”

“Are _you_ okay?”

He huffs a rough laugh and squeezes his eyes shut tighter to hold back the sharp sting of tears. “Always. You should know that by now.”

**

He’s not sure if he’s hungover or still drunk when Nate calls three days later about a new job. Given how his head feels, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was somehow managing a combination of both.

When he gets to the office, everyone else is already there. Sophie’s eyebrows go up when she sees him and Nate glances from him to the screens. “Roll it, Hardison.”

Eliot sits on one of the stools closest to the edge of the table. Hardison barely glances at him during the entire presentation, and Parker is very steadily not looking in his direction, even when she talks to Sophie who is sitting right next to him. When Hardison’s finished, Eliot has no idea what the case is about, what con they’ve decided on, and he hasn’t argued at all.

“Eliot?” He’s fairly certain Sophie’s been talking to him for a while, but he doesn’t tune in until she reaches over and lays her hand on top of his.

“Yeah.” He nods and blinks, turning to her once he realizes the screens are dark. “You need me?”

“Your part won’t start until tomorrow. Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“I am. Leave it.”

Sophie sighs. “You know…”

“Sophie. Drop it.” He gets up and goes to get himself a beer. He can feel her watching him, but he doesn’t look back. He opens the bottle and stares out the window. He doesn’t want to leave the team. He’s never wanted that. But he also knows he can’t work like this. Everything they do relies on trust. Parker won’t even look at him, and where Parker leads, Hardison follows.

Having it all at once means losing it all at once.

He tosses the empty bottle in the recycling bin. He doesn’t remember actually drinking it. “Since you don’t need me until tomorrow, I’m going home.”

“Sleep it off?” Nate asks like he has any room to judge.

“Or just stay drunk. That’s your M.O. right?” He shakes his head. “Sorry. Out of line. I’ll see you all in the morning.” He leaves before anyone can say or do anything, but he hears the rumble of voices through the door.

He gets in the Charger and lays his head on the wheel. He should go home and sleep before he makes a bad decision. Any decision. His phone beeps and he considers ignoring it, but it’s too ingrained in him that the team might be in trouble, might need him.

_“I can either pick up some Stouffer's or you can make us mac & cheese. P & I vote for your cooking.” _

It takes him a moment to parse Hardison’s text, even longer to answer. _“Wasn‘t aware you were coming over.”_

_“If that’s ok”_

_“Yeah. what time?”_

_“7?”_

_“See you then”_ He tosses his phone on the seat and leans back, looking at the ceiling before reaching for the keys and starting the car. He needs to stop at the store.

**

He doesn't have time to make his regular recipe, so he improvises. He’s sliding the dish into the oven when there’s a knock at his door. Parker’s standing outside and, even through the peephole, she looks perplexed. Eliot opens the door after undoing the locks and steps back. “C’mon in.” He feels breathless, like he’s been punched in the solar plexus. Hard.

Parker glances around and moves inside, keeping plenty of distance between the two of them. It’s like a second direct hit.

“You want something to drink?” He doesn’t remember feeling this stilted around her, even when they first realized.

She’s still looking around like she’s never seen his place. “Chocolate milk.”

“Coming right up.” He goes into the kitchen, finally managing to take the deep breath he’s been struggling for. “Where’s Hardison?” He calls out, starting as he turns around and she’s right behind him, mere inches away.

“He stopped to get soda.” She is searching his face like she’s trying to figure something out. “Beer. Maybe dessert. He was vague.”

Eliot nods a little. “Okay.” He lifts up the milk. “I’m gonna make your drink.”

“It’s weird now.”

Eliot swallows hard. “Okay.”

“Okay.” She goes back to the living room. Eliot rests his head on the refrigerator, trying to get his breath back. It still aches in his chest when he gets to work on Parker’s drink. 

Hardison shows up just as Eliot brings out the milk for Parker and a glass of water for himself. He lets himself in and stands there in the silence. “Y’all are having too much fun without me. How long until dinner?”

“Half hour.”

Hardison pulls a bottle of soda from his pack and takes a drink. He walks into the room and sits on the couch, staying on the opposite end from Parker so they’re configured into a triangle rather than a united front opposite Eliot.

“Look.” Eliot clears his throat. “I know I messed this up. And what I said isn’t important. You guys have what’s important. I’m not… Interfering with that.”

“Eliot, man…”

He shakes his head to cut Hardison off. “I screwed up. I know that. So I’m going to take a breather. These don’t exist, okay.” He gestures vaguely, but he knows they both know he means their marks. “After this con I’ll give you guys some room. Give us all some room.”

Hardison casts a quick glance toward Parker. Her face is devoid of expression, has been since Eliot started talking. Longer. “You’re…” Hardison licks his lips. “You’re coming back, right?”

“Yeah.” He’d planned to say no. Even with Hardison’s skills, Eliot could still disappear, but breaking a promise would probably be better than what he’s done; shatter what they had.

“You’re going away?” Parker asks.

“For a while.” He looks at her, and she’s very clearly not looking at him. Eliot finishes his water and gets up. Another beer is a bad idea and won’t do anything to get rid of his headache. He’s pretty sure nothing will except a time machine and him learning to keep his mouth shut around them. “Dinner should be ready.”

He disappears into the kitchen and digs a beer from the fridge anyway. He just takes one sip then checks on dinner. Covering the macaroni and cheese with a layer of havarti and then one of breadcrumbs, he sticks it back in the oven for browning. The thick-sliced ham is sizzling in its juices. He starts the fresh asparagus, setting them to steam.

Hardison comes up behind him, making enough noise to be sure Eliot knows he’s there. Not that Eliot didn’t know. Hardison’s hand settles lightly on Eliot’s hip, the warmth of his arm against Eliot’s. “Hey.”

Eliot just nods, not sure he can do anything else. Hardison leans down and rests his head on Eliot’s shoulder.

“Smells good.” He laughs quietly. “You and the food.”

“You should get back out there with her.” The words hurt his throat. “Make sure she doesn't bail.”

“Just thought I’d help set the table.” He moves behind Eliot, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. Eliot makes an undignified sound and his head drops forward. Hardison doesn’t move, and his breath stirs the hairs on the nape of Eliot’s neck as his other hand settles on Eliot’s hip, holding him on both sides. “Plates where we left ‘em?”

“Everything’s where you left it.” He’s saying more than he means, but that seems par for the course. Suddenly he’s got no defenses at all.

Hardison moves to the cabinet on the other side of Eliot and pulls out three plates. He grabs silverware and heads out to the table, brushing against Eliot again as he goes past. Eliot closes his eyes for a moment and then slides the slices of ham onto a platter, setting it on the counter. He opens the oven door and eases the casserole dish out. Parker comes up and stands beside the door, leans in, and sniffs. 

“Cheesy.”

Having her close aches, and he wants to pull her closer. He keeps his hands on the dish instead and uses his foot to guide the oven closed. “You want to grab the ham?”

She shrugs and picks up the platter, leading the way to the table. Hardison’s already sitting there, a fork in one fist and a knife in the other. Parker sets the platter down and sits, edging her chair closer to Hardison.

Eliot sighs and dishes up macaroni and cheese for himself then pushes the dish down the table to them. He waits until they’ve all filled their plates. He exhales slowly and forces himself to look at them. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“Eat?” Parker asks.

“No. Deal with this. Us.”

“Maybe we should eat first.” Hardison shifts in his seat, obviously nervous.

“It’s not a hard question.” Eliot gestures between them like he had in the living room. “Is it just the marks? Is it friendship? Is it more? Is it none of the above? For you. The two of you.” Parker takes a huge bite of macaroni, her cheeks puffing with the size of it. Eliot nods. “Okay. He pushes his plate away, his stomach twisted in knots. “Okay.”

“Okay what, Eliot?” Hardison is looking at him worriedly. “We haven’t said anything.”

“You don’t need to. It’s written all over her face.”

“The only thing on her face is cheese.” Hardison points a finger at him. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to martyr yourself.”

“I don’t like feelings.” Parker glares down at her plate, stabbing the macaroni with her fork like it’s offended her. “They’re hard and confusing. It’s bad enough having them. Why do we have to talk about them?”

“You don’t have to talk about them. I just need to know what they are.”

She keeps staring at the plate, stabbing more noodles. “People leave. You‘ll leave. If it’s just the marks or if we’re just friends, you’ll leave because you’ll feel weird.”

“I’m not going to leave. Not for good.” He knows it’s true the moment he says it. He couldn’t leave just like he couldn’t stay with Aimee or Kaye-lynn or Tabitha. “We’re a family. We’re linked. I just need to know if I need to step back.”

Parker glances at Hardison before finally looking at Eliot. “I don’t want things to change.”

He sees Hardison’s eyes close, his face pained, but he keeps his focus on Parker. “Okay.”

“But you still feel things.”

Eliot actually manages a smile. “I’ve spent most of my life making sure I don’t feel anything. I’ll be fine.”

**

The office is quiet when Eliot shows up the next morning; the only sound is the faint tap of Hardison’s fingers on the keyboard. Eliot holds up a bag. “You guys didn’t take any leftovers last night.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, well. You told me nine o’clock.”

“Yeah.” Hardison pushes away from the computer and looks at Eliot. “Everyone else is coming later. I wanted to talk.”

“We talked last night.” Eliot wants this conversation over. He doesn’t want this conversation to start. They’d finished dinner, the atmosphere strained, but nowhere near as bad as it could've been. It was awkward until they’d all got caught up in eating. Hardison had brought up watching a movie. Parker and Hardison sat on the couch and Eliot sat in the chair, and they all argued about Hardison’s cinematic taste. It felt wrong and abnormal, stilted. But it could have been worse.

“I know that Parker is scared, you know? Being vulnerable makes her freak.”

“I know. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine. I know you, Eliot. Even without this.” He jabs himself in the side. “I know you. You’re my goddamned best friend, and you’re _lying_.” 

“It’ll be fine then. There’s no other acceptable choice.”

“But it’s _not_ acceptable.” Hardison leaves the table and moves over to Eliot. “Not… When I’m with you, I feel…” He curses under his breath and closes the distance between them. His breath falls against Eliot’s lips. “Love you. I… It’s…”

Eliot wraps his hand around the back of Hardison’s neck and pulls him in, fitting their mouths together. He’s never conscious of the thought, the choice. It’s all instinct.

Hardion moves closer, slotting his knee between Eliot’s legs. Eliot slides one hand down Hardison’s back to the curve of his ass, pulling him in even more. Hardison moans into Eliot’s mouth as his cock presses against Eliot's thigh.

Eliot breaks the kiss, but doesn’t pull back, and they pant into each other’s mouths. He knows that he should stop, make sure that this is okay with Parker, but need is pulsing through his blood. He tilts Hardison’s head and scrapes his teeth along his jaw before leaving a hot trail of kisses from the hollow below Hardison's ear to the curve of his collarbone.

“Upstairs,” Hardison breathes in Eliot’s ear. “Bed.”

Eliot nods and follows him up the stairs to the bedroom. Hardison strips off his shirt halfway up and tosses it on the floor when he reaches the room. He starts undoing his jeans in the short time it takes Eliot to clear the last three steps. As soon as Eliot’s there, Hardison starts stripping him, getting his shirt off and throwing it to the side. He goes for Eliot’s belt next, but Eliot distracts him by leaning in and catching Hardison’s lower lip between his teeth, sucking it into his mouth along with Hardison’s groan.

They both get their shoes and jeans off without tripping. Eliot pushes Hardison down onto his back, tugging off his boxers. He moves between Hardison's spread legs, leaning in and breathing against Hardison’s inner thigh before biting him at the upper junction where it meets Hardison’s ass. 

Hardison’s heels dig into the mattress and he arches off the bed. Eliot moves in closer so that Hardison’s legs rest on his shoulders. He nuzzles the base of Hardison’s cock, flicking his tongue over the skin.

“El -- God.”

He catches the sensitive skin between his teeth, tugging gently. Hardison’s heels move from the mattress to Eliot’s back, digging in right above his ass. Eliot laughs roughly, letting him go, letting him breathe before he sucks Hardison’s balls into his mouth.

“Christ. Christ.” Hardison pounds his fists. “Don't...don’t stop, Christ.” HIs voice breaks, crashing like waves over the pounding of Eliot’s pulse. Eliot sucks harder, his tongue curving over the heat of him. Hardison's hips stay angled up and he reaches down to fist one hand in Eliot’s hair, pulling hard. “God. Just… Yes.”

Eliot pulls back, keeping Hardison in his mouth as long as he can. There’s a wet sound as he slips from Eliot’s mouth, and Hardison whines. His hand stays tight in Eliot’s hair, tugging him upward.

Eliot refuses to move and simply huffs a laugh against the spit-slick skin, then flicks his tongue over Hardison’s hole, letting the resulting gasp wash over him as he presses the tip of his tongue against and then past the tight ring of muscle. Hardison’s hand tightens further, wrapped in Eliot’s hair as the other hand combs through the strands to scratch at Eliot’s scalp. 

Eliot’s caught, trapped, unable to move except for his mouth, his lips, his tongue. He works Hardison over slowly, pushing deep again and again. He takes his time, licking and sucking at the hot, sensitive skin. His tongue presses into Hardison relentlessly, the curved tip and the flattened length of it thrusting deep. 

Hardison makes a noise high in the back of his throat and both of his hands twist in Eliot’s hair. Eliot groans and slides his hands under Hardison’s ass, lifting him so Eliot can thrust deeper. Hardison shudders and releases Eliot’s hair, so Eliot presses closer still. His mouth closes over Hardison’s opening and he sucks tight, pushing his tongue deeper.

He hears the slide and slap of Hardison stroking himself, his hand moving rapidly, his whole body trembling as he falls apart at the tip of Eliot’s tongue. Hardison comes, his voice breaking on Eliot’s name. Eliot pulls back and eases Hardison’s legs onto to the mattress. He crawls up Hardison’s body, licking a swathe through the hot thickness of Hardison’s come, making Hardison whimper and tremble even more.

Hardison is shiny with sweat, and Eliot’s tongue is salty with it as he licks, kisses, and sucks his way up Hardison’s body. Hardison’s hands move up and down Eliot’s back, leaning forward for Eliot’s mouth, for any skin he can find.

Eliot braces himself over Hardison, not letting their bodies touch other than the brush of Eliot’s knees and thighs where he’s kneeling between Hardison’s spread legs. He grabs the condoms and lube out of the night stand and looks back down at Hardison. 

Hardison surges up and sinks his teeth into the tendon of Eliot’s neck above his shoulder. Eliot groans softly and slides a hand behind Hardison’s back, holding him close as Eliot buries his face against Hardison’s throat. 

“Eliot.” Hardison scrapes the skin with his teeth. “Please. Need you. This. You.”

Eliot eases back slowly, his eyes catching on Hardison’s. He moves back so he’s sitting on his heels, his cock thick and hard, flushed deep red, and leaking where it’s curved up against Eliot’s stomach. He opens the condom and works it on, hissing at the touch and pressure.

Hardison grabs the lube and opens it, pouring it onto the head of Eliot’s cock before stroking it onto him. 

“Jesus, Hardison.”

“Now.” He squeezes lightly. “Please.”

Eliot nods and moves in, lining his cock against Hardison’s hole, then leaning in as he sinks deep. Hardison is tight, but wet from Eliot’s tongue, his body still bathed in the lassitude of his orgasm. Eliot goes slow, gritting his teeth in an attempt at keeping his fragile control.

What little he has dissolves when Hardison wraps his legs around Eliot’s waist, pulling him deeper. Eliot curses under his breath and braces himself, arms rigid as he gives in and starts to thrust.

He buries himself and tries to stay still, to let Hardison adjust, but Hardison bites Eliot’s earlobe. “Now.”

Eliot gives up, surrenders. The muscles in his arms quiver with tension as he moves, pulling back, then snapping his hips forward. Hardison thrusts up to meet him. They rock together, breath stolen with every stroke. Hardison captures Eliot’s face between his hands and stares at him, holding his gaze for what seems like hours before he pulls Eliot down and kisses him. 

Eliot’s rhythm falters and he gets lost in the kiss, his hips stuttering in short, hard strokes. He breaks the kiss with a gasp and drops his head to Hardison’s shoulder. He doesn’t pull back, just keeps pushing deeper. Hardison groans, legs and arms wrapped tight around Eliot. His orgasm hits him hard, and his whole body shakes. Dropping down to his elbows, he keeps thrusting until he’s sure Hardison’s body is the only thing keeping him from flying apart.

“That…” Hardison swallows roughly. “Yeah.”

Eliot hasn’t moved, so the small shake of his head rubs against Hardison’s shoulder. “Time’s it?”

“It’s… Um. Oh.”

“Oh.” Eliot carefully eases away, but even still, both of them gasp as Eliot slips free. 

“Go on and shower,” Hardison says softly. “I’ll open a window and… Yeah. Get. Water. Yeah.”

“Parker doesn’t know.” He wishes he could make it a question, wishes he had some doubt, but it’s clear from Hardison’s glance that it’s true. Eliot’s stomach twists. “Does she?”

“It’s separate. Me and you. Her and you. Me and her.”

“But she doesn’t know.” Eliot gathers up his clothes and goes into the bathroom. Hardison looks guilty and hurt all at once, but Eliot can’t think of anything to say, so he just closes the door and leans against it for a moment before turning the shower on as hot as it will go.

**

“Eliot. Need some help.”

He hears Parker, her voice soft but not panicked. The guy he’s fighting won’t stay down, so Eliot slams his head against the floor a couple of times in quick succession until he’s still.

“What am I going into, Hardison?”

“I don’t see anything. Parker? What d’you got for us, girl?”

“Four guys on the floor. They’re coming this way.”

“Don’t worry.” Eliot starts up the stairs. “So am I.” He’s spent the majority of the last several cons grifting along with Sophie, so the thought of an actual fight -- four guys and the potential of a challenge -- is pretty much exactly what he wants. “Where are you?”

“Last door on the right to the left of the elevator.”

He runs into the first guy at the top of the stairs. The kidney punch pitches him forward, and Eliot grabs him and spins him around, landing a hard punch to his face. He falls back then charges Eliot, getting him on the cheek with a right and an uppercut to his ribs with his left. The noise brings two of the others back down the hallway, and Eliot grins.

“Better call your other friend over there. You’re gonna need him.”

“You think so?”

“No.” He hits the first one hard. “I know so.”

They’re good fighters, and it feels better than Eliot wants to admit. They have distinctive styles, telling him they’ve had training in Krav Maga, but their first instinct is to fight with weapons, so Eliot definitely has the advantage in hand-to-hand.

He can hear Hardison talking to Parker, hear her trying to track where the fourth guy is. Eliot twists his neck just enough to crack it, “Find her a way out, Hardison.”

One of the guys manages to get behind Eliot, getting in two good shots. Eliot back him off with an elbow to the throat that sends the guy down to his knees, and a swift kick to the head puts him on the floor out cold. 

Eliot gestures to the third guy to come closer. He curls his lip in a sneer and moves forward. Eliot grins, bouncing slightly as he waits. “You know you’re a joke, Spencer? You think dropping those two half-assed fighters makes you a big man?” He pulls out a baton and snaps it open, twirling it between his fingers. “I’m gonna enjoy the hell out of this.”

“Uh, Eliot? We know who this guy is?”

He brings the baton down on the inside of Eliot’s shoulder. The metal hits and pain shoots up Eliot’s neck and across his chest as it slides down and the head of the baton snaps against Eliot’s collarbone. 

“Kinda busy, Hardison.”

The guy dances out of range, waving the baton back and forth. “Boss is gonna love you as a prize. Maybe between me and him we can knock some damn sense into you.”

“Are you going to fight?” Eliot asks. “Or you just like hearing yourself talk?”

The guy lunges forward and swings the baton from side to side. Eliot jerks back, but the end of it catches his cheek. He hears the impact, but the bone doesn’t break. His skin splits and blood slides down his face in a warm gush. The guy takes a second swing, this time bringing the baton over his head toward the top of Eliot's.

Eliot catches the metal shaft with both hands, jerking the guy forward and into his bent knee. He wrests the baton from his hands, but before he can do anything, he hears a noise in his ear, something high-pitched and urgent and _Parker_.

Eliot doesn‘t think, just acts. A quick, hard swing of the baton across the back of the guy’s head, and then Eliot’s sprinting down the hall. He comes to a halt outside the room Parker’s in. The door is open and Parker is face-down on the floor, hands on the back of her head, and a gun pressed against her neck.

The guy holding the gun smiles at Eliot and digs the metal deeper into Parker’s neck. “Nice of you guys. Clear it out for us, open the safe.”

“You left out the step where I beat the shit out of you.”

“Pretty sure that’s not happening. I mean, what about your pretty little girlfriend here?”

“Oh, she doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Is that so?”

Eliot’s hand is a blur as he throws the baton, hitting the guy in the center of his forehead. His head jerk backs as Eliot tackles him to the ground. The gun goes flying, and Eliot straddles the guy, alternating punches left and right until Parker grabs one of his arms, pulling him back.

“Eliot. Eliot.” Her voice is soft, but somehow louder than the pounding rage in his head, and he lets her drag him away. 

He looks at her and her eyes are wide. He can see the throb of her pulse in her throat. He’s panting, his chest heaving, his blood flooded with adrenalin.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” She keeps tugging on him, trying to guide him toward the hallway. There’s blood on his hands and the guy’s face is a mangled mess. He’s still breathing, but there’s a wet sound to it. Eliot frees himself from Parker’s grip and goes back to the guy, carefully guiding him onto his side. Parker reaches for Eliot again, but he shakes her off.

“You’re okay.”

“Yeah.”

“You got what we came for?”

She nods. “Let’s go.”

He follows her this time, staying behind her as she leads the way out. He realizes then that Hardison, Nate and Sophie are all talking, but he can’t quite make out their words, can’t focus on anything but following Parker.

She opens the van door and Hardison gets out, wrapping her in his arms. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Eliot took care of me.”

“Yeah. Course he did.” Hardison turns to Eliot and freezes. “Uh. Eliot? You okay?”

“It’s mostly not his blood.” Parker assures him.

Hardison looks from Eliot’s hands to Parker. “Well, that’s encouraging.”

“Hardison. Reunion time later.” Nate’s voice is loud and annoyed. “Time to go.”

Eliot nods. “Go ahead. You guys have stuff to do. I’ll meet you back at the brew pub.”

“You’re in no shape to drive.” Hardison takes one of Eliot’s arms as Parker takes the other. “After we’re done, we’ll take you home.”

“Don’t want blood in your Charger.” Hardison and Parker work him into the van. Hardison grabs a tub of wipes and hands them to Parker before getting into the driver’s seat. Eliot’s on the floor and Parker squats down next to him.

“You’ve got blood on your hands.” Eliot’s voice is barely a whisper, and all he can focus on is the reddish brown stains on Parker’s skin.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s not mine. You took care of me.” She takes out a wipe and starts cleaning his hands and forearms. There’s blood in the creases of his knuckles, but the more she cleans his hands, the cleaner her hands get, which calms Eliot down. He’s still breathing quickly, and he can see the concern in Parker’s eyes.

He knows this was nothing like the calm efficiency of his fighting style. This was him, out of control. A _loss_ of control he can’t allow himself.

Hardison stops the van and turns to look at both of them. “Eliot, change your shirt, huh? And Parker you need to change into the outfit Sophie left you.”

Eliot nods and reaches for his duffle. He tugs his shirt over his head as Parker starts stripping, not wanting to see her naked now that he knows that she doesn’t want that, want him. Not wanting to take advantage. Not wanting to lose her respect.

Caught in the fabric, all he can smell is the coppery tang of blood, strong enough that he can taste it. Fortunately Parker dresses quickly, so it’s not long before he can put on a clean shirt. When he’s done, he looks over and Hardison is staring at Parker, looking like he’s been hit with a 2x4, and Parker’s apparently decided to dress in some sort of silver-blue Saran Wrap. 

Eliot balls up his bloody shirt and shoves it into his bag. He tugs a long-sleeved flannel over his t-shirt. The inside of the van is too small for them, and Eliot hates it. Hates that who and what they are is ruined. That he was stupid enough to ruin them. Compromise them.

“You hang out here, all right, man?” Hardison phrases it as a question, but they all know it’s not. They need him to stay here because they’re worried he’s a loose cannon. He killed over a dozen of Moreau’s men in that warehouse, and even if they knew or guessed what he’d done, none of them had seen it.

Of course, he’d done all of that without losing control.

“Yeah. I’ll be here. Listening on comms. You need me, you let me know.”

His voice doesn’t shake, and Hardison and Parker don’t seem to hesitate as they head out of the van. When they’re gone, he slumps against the wall and closes his eyes, far more tired than he should be, his emotions weighing on him heavily. The won’t need him. This part of the con is grifts and lifts, so he just lets them all become background noise.

He hasn’t moved the entire time they’ve been gone, and from the light he can see through the window, it’s been at least three hours. He cat-napped and he can feel the effects of the fight in his muscles as he tries to move them when he hears their voices. They climb into the van looking ridiculously out of place in their dress attire. Eliot gets to his feet stiffly and nods to them. “I’ll drive.”

Nate nods, though it’s clear he’s not sure that’s the right thing. Eliot slides into the driver’s seat and heads back to the brew pub, listening to Nate as he goes over their status and the next steps of the plan. Eliot glances back in the rearview mirror every once and awhile, and each time Parker is looking at him. He manages a smile and she gives him one back, and it makes something in Eliot’s chest relax.

When they get back, they split up and Sophie and Nate head off in Nate’s car. Eliot goes into the pub and heads straight to the bar while Parker and Hardison disappear upstairs.

“Hey, boss.” Amy smiles at him from behind the bar.

“That’s Hardison.”

“Sure it is.” She draws out the first word. “What can I get you?”

“Whatever’s on tap, and a shot of one of the local whiskeys.”

“Bad day?”

“Something like that.”

“Let me know if you want to talk. I’m on the ‘listening to woes’ lesson of my bartending degree.”

“Thanks.” He smiles at her as she sets the beer in front of him. It’s a genuine smile, even if it doesn’t exactly feel like it.

She grabs a bottle of whiskey from the shelf and pours, very deliberately not looking at him. “I have a question for you.”

“Sure. But if it’s about a raise, then you really do have to talk to Hardison.”

“Nope.” She smiles and sets the shot glass down. “Definitely a question for you.” Eliot picks up the glass and downs the whiskey. He’s halfway through swallowing when Amy looks him in the eye. “You’re single, right?”

Eliot nearly chokes, coughing roughly. Amy’s eyes widen, but her forehead creases. 

“You okay?”

Eliot waves her back. “Yeah. Just.” He coughs again then takes a drink of his beer. “I’m… Uh. Not looking to be set up.”

“Set up? Oh.” She laughs and shakes her head. “I’m not trying to set you up.”

“Then I’m not following.”

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out.” Amy refills the whiskey. “To dinner. With me.”

“Me.” It’s a question. Eliot glances down at himself then up at Amy. He knows he’s attractive, knows he’s got sex appeal. But Amy is _not_ the sort of girl who asks him out to dinner. For sex, yes. Dinner? No.

“You.”

“I’m at least twice your age.”

“I”m not asking for your hand in marriage. Just dinner. I’ll let you pick the restaurant even.”

“Obviously. I mean.” He can feel the heat of a blush staining his cheeks, even though he _does not blush_. “But… You know. Conflict. Of interest.”

“You just said you’re not my boss.”

Eliot laughs. “You’re too smart for your own good. And too smart for me. And I’m still more than twice your age.”

“And you don’t like younger women?”

“You.” He points at her. “Are dangerous.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’m flattered as hell, but I’m kind of involved. Sort of.”

“Right.” She pours him another shot, and something about her gaze makes it clear she doesn’t believe him. Or maybe she knows more than she seems to.

“Plus, Parker told me I can’t date bar patrons. And I’m pretty sure if I dated an employee, she’d stab me. Probably more than once.”

“I see.” She knows Parker enough to know Eliot’s probably not joking, so her smile is actually genuine. Eliot feels a twinge of regret -- not just because now that the thought’s there, he could completely imagine going out with Amy, _being_ with Amy, but because staying here means his future is nothing more than a series of one-night stands.

“I really am flattered, and I wish…”

She leans across the bar and kisses the tip of his nose. “I’m not going anywhere. Let me know if you change your mind.”

She moves down the bar and Eliot swallows the shot down. He finishes his beer in a couple of pulls and leaves enough money to cover his drinks and a good tip on the bar before he heads outside. He glances up at Hardison’s window, and sees a soft glow of light through the curtains.

He shakes his head and gets in his car to go home.

**

He hasn’t slept, and he’s on his second pot of coffee. He refills his cup and turns around, coming up short when he sees Parker sitting on the counter. Sighing, he takes a sip. “It’s three AM.”

“You’re awake.”

“I’m also in my own home.”

“Are you okay?:”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Because you weren’t.”

He shifts and takes another drink. “That’s because you had a gun to your head. Shit like that bothers me.”

She slips off the counter and walks to him, going up on tiptoes and pressing a kiss to his cheek. When she pulls back, she takes his coffee cup and sets it aside. Eliot frowns, his breath catching when she takes both of his hands in hers and presses her mouth to his knuckles in a soft kiss. He’d scrubbed them almost raw to clean out the blood, and the skin is still pink beneath her lips.

“You take care of us. Me.”

“It’s my job.”

She shakes her head and keeps kissing, focusing on each knuckle individually. Eliot leans in and kisses the top of his head. Her lips move against his skin as she speaks. “It’s more than that.”

She pulls back to look at him, and Eliot moves away. “You didn’t have to come over.”

“I wish you’d realize that you’re a good man.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever believe that. There are two good pieces of me, and they belong to you and Hardison.”

She punches him in the stomach, just hard enough to sting. “Don’t be dumb.”

“Hardison would say I can’t help it.”

She narrows her eyes. “No he wouldn’t. And if he did, he’d just be teasing. And I’d punch him.”

Eliot sighs sadly. “Violence isn’t the answer, Parker.”

She stares at him for a long minute and then grins, bouncing up on her toes. “You’re okay!”

It’s not a question, but Eliot answers. “As okay as ever.”

“Well, we’re going to pretend you think that’s a good thing.” She heads to the door. “Night, Eliot.”

He shakes his head, knows he’s smiling. “See you tomorrow, Parker.”

**

Nate gets more tense, watching all of them more closely. He takes bigger risks like the White Rabbit. Eliot lets him put Parker at risk because Nate’s going to do whatever he wants, and Parker’s going to go along with it. They all seem determined to forget that Nate's not afraid to push all of them too far. 

And things are still a little stilted with Parker, even after the gun incident, because he’s not quite sure how to act around her. She’s just as physical with him as before, no matter how much he’d like her _not_ to poke him, but he leaves every night after dinner and dishes and, sometimes, a movie. Hardison’s careful to keep his expression neutral, but Eliot hasn’t put any effort into fending off a hug from him. He leans into them instead, breathes deep, lets his fingers graze Hardison’s ribcage. Hardison always sucks in a deep breath, but he doesn’t stop Eliot from pulling away. 

Nothing changes until they’re working on the Jefferson bottle. Eliot’s coming off his shift in the vineyard when Parker shoves him from behind then jumps on his back. He stumbles slightly then slides his gloved hands under her thighs. 

“Intern Parker really hates wine-guy Hardison.”

“You _are_ intern Parker.”

“So?”

“So you don’t have to talk about yourself in the third person.”

“It sounds less mean than saying I hate wine-guy Hardison though. Because he’s really easy to hate. But I know he’s not real Hardison. I don’t hate him. Real him.”

“I’ve been out in the sun all day,” Eliot growls. “Stop talking.”

“Intern Parker doesn't like grumpy Eliot.”

“I’m always grumpy Eliot. Except I’m not grumpy, damn it.”

She laughs and wraps her arms around his neck tighter in what he assumes is supposed to be a hug. She kisses his cheek and then rests her chin on his shoulder over his mark. Eliot takes a deep breath. 

“Where am I carrying you?”

“Is your truck here?”

“Yeah. Didn’t feel like walking here from my place.”

“Then I want a ride to your ride, and then a ride home. Hardison’s helping Nate with the forgery and how to forge the forgery, so I’m bored.”

“Already?”

“Pre-emptively bored. Amuse me.”

Eliot turns his head slightly to give her a look that she clearly ignores. “How do you propose I do that?”

She thinks for a minute and then her thighs tighten slightly. Eliot’s breath stutters and his hands tense. A surge of want floods through him, and he barely manages to bite back a groan.

“Bowling.”

It takes him a few seconds to find his voice, and the earlier heat freezes in his veins. He stops beside his truck and drops her down to her feet. “Bowling, huh?”

“You should like it right? You get to throw things at people-shaped things.”

“Bowling’s great.” He smiles and she grins back at him.

“I knew you’d like it.” She sounds proud and Eliot’s mouth quirks.

“Parker, have you ever been bowling?”

“...No.”

“So you picked it because you thought I’d like it?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

He nods at her hopeful expression, and the resulting smile. His throat is tight. “Yeah, darlin’. More than.”

**

Bowling is a spectacular disaster. Parker gets bored about three frames in and disappears. Eliot looks for her and sees her down by the pins at the end of the alley, hanging upside down and carefully lifting the five pin out of the formation.

“Really?”

She just grins and swings herself up in a blur of blond ponytail. The next time he sees her, she’s got a basket overflowing with shoestring fries doused with ketchup.

“You’re a menace.”

She waves a fry at him. “Bowl for me and make me win.”

Eliot dodges drops of ketchup and goes back to finish the game. When he’s done, he takes her back to Hardison’s. Everyone else is still busy working, so Eliot starts fixing a late dinner for them. Parker perches on the back of a chair, quiet and watching, listening. Eliot watches her for a moment, and tries to put a name to the feeling in his chest.

He misses her.

“You should stay.” Hardison’s voice is soft, barely loud enough for Eliot to hear over the sound of the fridge opening. Hardison’s soda hisses when he opens it, which gives Eliot the opportunity to remind him that’s not what Parker wants.

Hardison looks over to where Parker is talking to Sofie. “That’s not true.”

“Yeah it is.” Eliot focuses on the vegetables he’s chopping.

Hardison huffs, obviously exasperated. “You’re so damn stubborn.”

“Not news.”

“She misses you.”

“She sees me all the time.”

“You know what I mean.” 

Eliot looks at him and shakes his head to let Hardison know he needs to stop. Hardison huffs again and takes a long drink before heading back to his computer. Eliot stares down and focuses on the food until Nate comes into the kitchen and leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

“You guys all okay?”

“Huh? Yeah.” Eliot’s brow furrows. “Why do you ask?”

“There just seems to be some tension.”

“Nah.” He takes the cutting board with him back to the stove, easing the vegetables into the warm oil. “Everything’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Why would I bullshit you? Our whole job depends on trust. I don’t lie to you.”

“How many times have you told me you’re fine when you weren’t?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“First of all, you know that fine means something else, so it’s not a lie.”

“You just told me everything with the you guys is fine.”

Eliot blows his breath out his nose. “We’re gonna do this?”

“Just asking.” Nate holds his hands up in surrender.

“We work together. We’re not gonna mess that up, okay?”

“I know that. I’m not worried about the job. I’m worried about the rest of it. You.”

“Me?”

Nate’s leaning, casual and relaxed, but Eliot knows he’s anything but. “You take care of us. You aren’t good with taking care of you. Or letting people take care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of.”

Nate lifts an eyebrow and pushes off the counter. “Do you think you fool them? Because you haven’t fooled me yet.”

“I don’t know that I’ve tried.” Eliot stirs the vegetables, sauteing them until the onions are translucent. “Hand me the chicken.”

Nate does, not looking away from Eliot. “I guess I don’t really need to worry about you.”

“Not really.”

“Because if you’re ever not okay, you just change the rules, right?”

“You’d know all about that.”

Nate laughs. “Fair enough. How long until dinner?”

“Twenty.”

“Good. Plenty of time for me to have a drink.”

**

Parker jabs Eliot hard in the shoulder. “Hey.”

“Don’t.”

“You still breathing funny?”

“I wasn’t breathing funny, Parker. I couldn’t _breathe_.”

“Right. Whatever.” She pokes him in the chest this time, watching him carefully, as if she doesn’t trust that he’s gotten enough oxygen to combat the carbon dioxide at the winery. “”You’re all fixed?”

“I’m breathing fine.”

“Good. I like it when you breathe.”

He cocks an eyebrow and gives her a small smile. “That makes two of us.”

“Three. Hardison too.” She bumps his arm with her shoulder, more physical than she’s been in a long time. Eliot’s smile widens at the shift, though he doesn’t expect what she says next. “You should stay.”

“What?” It’s been a few days since the last time they’d all been at the brew pub, the con done and debrief finally finished. Hardison is deep in conversation with Nate and Sophie is curled in a chair, leafing through a script.

“Stay. We’ll watch one of Hardison’s movies and make fun of him.”

“You wouldn’t rather be alone? Just the two of you?”

“No.”

“Because I…”

“Eliot.” She punches him, harder than usual. “You’re going to stay.”

“I am, huh?”

She goes to punch him again, but this time he wraps his fingers around her wrist. Her lips purse before becoming a pout, and as she moves in closer to him, her lower lip slides out further. Eliot reaches up and puts a finger against her lip and pushes it back in. She tries to keep a straight face, but ends up grinning. She catches his finger between her lips, and he swallows a the tip of her tongue brushes his finger.

Eliot clears his throat and steps back. “Haven’t all watched a movie together in a while.” Parker actually frowns and shakes her head, but Eliot doesn’t give her a chance to say anything. “We could probably find something good to watch.”

“There’s a Bogart marathon tonight.” Sophie looks over at them. “That sounds wonderful.”

Parker stomps to the kitchen, grumbling about making popcorn. Eliot goes to the main room and grabs the remote from next to Hardison’s computer, flicking the screens on and going through the channels until Bogart’s voice fills the room.

“Excellent,” Sophie sighs. “I love _To Have and Have Not_. What about you, Eliot?”

“Sure.” He glances over at Parker. “Something like that.”

**

Parker’s glaring at the computer when Eliot gets back from the park. He’s got phone numbers from four single moms, and he’s reasonably sure none of them actually want to talk to him about “Baby Feels-A-Lot.” He rubs his thumb over his lower lip as he walks over to her, eyebrow raised at Hardison’s obvious delight.

“More?”

“You have this sensitive dad shit _down_. I swear, they’re all in love with you. They _literally_ want to have your babies.”

Parker’s frown morphs into an angry scowl. “They shouldn’t act like that. He’s a _dad_.”

“Except I’m not actually a dad.”

“You are to them.” 

“Just because they have kids doesn’t mean they don’t…”

“They’re _moms_. They have _kids_. What if their kids read this. What if they read it and see their moms talking about this? About _you_.”

“None of them have kids over the age of five.”

Parker huffs angrily, eyes narrowed as she glares at Eliot. Hardison closes his laptop and turns so he can get a better look at her. “Babe? You okay?”

She shoves off her stool, turning on Eliot and punching him hard. It would be nice if her deciding to touch him again had meant something other than her punching him all the time. “I said I didn’t want it to change!”

Eliot glances from Parker to Hardison, bewildered. “What?”

She hits him again, this time pounding her hands against his chest. “You promised. You _swore_.”

“Parker. Parker!” He grabs her wrists and holds them, keeping her from hitting him again. “What are you talking about?”

She kicks him hard in the shin, but she doesn’t try to get away. “I watched! I saw you!” Eliot doesn’t get a chance to say anything before she does her best to start hitting him again. It surprises him enough that she gets a couple blows in before he holds her wrists tight. Tighter. “You were flirting with them!”

“I...what? Parker, what the hell? That’s part of my job on the con!”

She pulls her arms downward, using Eliot’s grip as leverage to push up, push forward, and press her mouth to his. Eliot doesn’t recognize the sound he makes. He doesn’t think and everything seems to happen at once, so quickly he’s not sure if he releases Parker’s wrists before she wraps her legs around him, or if his arm slides under her ass after she hooks hers over the back of his neck.

All he knows is she’s kissing him. She still fits against him. She’s still hot against him. Her mouth is just as sweet. Eliot wraps his other hand around the back of Parker’s neck, his fingers digging in slightly and she moans into his mouth. 

“Jesus.” He hears Hardison, though he sounds muted and far away. Eliot shifts Parker higher and deepens the kiss, tongue sliding over hers, tasting the slick surfaces of her mouth. She moves her hand up into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp.

She pulls back with his lower lip between her teeth, tugging on it. Eliot makes a rough sound and drags her back in, his tongue pushing in, tip trailing along the roof of her mouth. Parker moans softly and rocks against him. 

“Okay. We. Um.” Hardison puts his hand in the small of Eliot’s back, right above Parker’s crossed ankles. “Upstairs. Bedroom. Now. Shit.”

Eliot pulls back and looks into Parker’s dark eyes. He tilts his head slightly. “You sure?”

She doesn’t look away. “Hardison, lock the door.”

“I’m gonna text Nate and Sophie not to come over. Not sure a locked door would stop ‘em.”

Parker responds, but Eliot tunes them both out, carrying Parker up to the bedroom. He drops her onto the mattress and she laughs, bouncing more than Eliot’s light toss would have caused. He rolls his eyes and Parker gets to her knees, moving to the end of the mattress and looking up at him as she settles her hands on his hips.

“I need to understand, Parker,” he says softly, hands on her shoulders to keep her from moving.

“You said nothing would change, but then you stopped being around us, stopped sleeping with us, stopped having sex with us. And then you started flirting with those women. Like you were done, moving on. It _changed_ and it wasn’t supposed to!”

“That’s why I…”

“It changed! We were close. Together. And then we weren’t!” She presses against his hands and leans in, dropping a light kiss against his t-shirt before sliding her hands higher and bunching the material so she can press her lips to his bare skin. Eliot closes his eyes, biting his lower lip to keep from making a noise.

“Uh-uh.” Hardison slips up behind him, pressing his hands on Eliot’s shoulders, fingers against Parker’s mark. “Wanna hear you.”

Parker leans in and nuzzles of hair below Eliot’s navel, pressing barely-there kisses between catching the hairs with her teeth and tugging lightly. Eliot’s head falls back and Hardison trails a finger down his throat. “C’mon, El. Let us hear you.”

He huffs out a rough breath as Parker tugs on his jeans with her teeth, the button popping free from the buttonhole. His hand shakes as he reaches out, his palm stroking down Parker’s blond hair. She leans into his touch and looks up at him through her eyelashes. “Hi, Eliot.”

“Hey, Parker.”

“This okay?”

“Perfect.”

She smiles and turns her head, kissing his palm. He traces her cheekbone with his thumb. She tilts her head up and bites the meat of it, growling playfully. Eliot laughs and Hardison chuckles behind him. “Careful what you’re biting down there, mama.”

She grins again, just as wicked, and moves her teeth to Eliot’s zipper, pulling it down. Groaning, Eliot shakes his head and licks his lips. “Jesus, Parker.”

She hooks her hands under his waistband and guides his jeans down his thighs and lets them fall the rest of the way to the ground. He inhales through his nose twice in quick succession as they fall. His exhale stutters out when she licks the length of his cock through the soft fabric of his boxer briefs.

Hardison hums softly, his hands moving down Eliot’s arms to his hips. He slides his thumbs beneath the elastic of Eliot’s boxer briefs and pushes them over Eliot’s hips as Parker eases the front over Eliot’s hardening cock, her tongue sliding down the shaft after it.

Eliot swallows hard, nearly choking when she wraps her hand around him and guides him into her mouth. She doesn’t hesitate, swallowing him down immediately. Eliot grips Hardison’s hands on his hips, curling his fingers into Hardison’s palms. He leans back and Hardison supports him there. 

Parker’s cheeks hollow out as she pulls back, sucking hard until she reaches the head and lets her tongue swirl and slide under the ridge, then over the top, tip dipping into the slit. Eliot closes his eyes, knowing that if he watches, he’s not going to last. Hardison’s humming against his neck, and Eliot bends his head to the side, silently asking for more.

Parker takes him deep again as if in response, and she speeds up slightly as she works him over from base to tip. Her hand wraps around him, palm pressed against the thatch of hair around his dick. He dares to open his eyes, and Parker’s still looking up at him, her lips stretched; lips pink and the surrounding skin blanched. Eliot lets go of one of Hardison’s hands and presses his thumb to the corner of Parker’s mouth, drawing the gathered saliva there away and then licking what remains from his thumb before sucking it into his mouth. Parker moans around him, and Eliot curses under his breath.

Hardison slides his hand up Eliot’s stomach before capturing his wrist again, and bringing his hand back to his waist. Parker pulls off Eliot with a wet sound and flicks her tongue along the slit again. She nuzzles the underside of his cock until she’s close enough to use her hand to guide his balls into her mouth. 

Eliot fights against Hardison’s grip, needing to touch her. Hardison refuses to let him go.

Parker sucks his balls, tongue sliding against them before she eases off. Eliot manages a breath, but it cuts off when Parker takes one of them in her mouth and sucks hard.

“Oh shit,” he groans. His knees almost give out, but Hardison keeps him standing, murmuring encouragement in his ear. Parker pulls off, moving to the other side of the sac and wraps her tongue around the firm skin. “Sh-shit, Parker.”

He’s trembling all over when she goes back to both before pulling away completely. Eliot’s cock slides across her lips and cheek, leaving a trail of pre-come on her skin. Eliot closes his eyes again, head back. His body feels like it’s on fire, on the edge of the cliff. Like Parker’s going to lock them together and toss him off a building.

She takes his cock between her lips again, the edge of her teeth pressing against the base. Eliot shudders and he comes, back arching. Hardison talks to him, but Eliot can’t make out words, can’t feel anything but the tight, wet heat of Parker’s mouth. She hums and swallows around him. Eliot leans harder on Hardison who’s practically holding him up.

Parker gets off the bed in one fluid motion and runs her hand down his chest. “Don’t let it change, okay?”

He nods. “It won’t.”

**

They get the Snubby Chubby Dog off to the Consumer Product Safety Commision and ruin Haslett’s life which is, as far as Eliot’s concerned, more than a former arms dealer deserves. They set Marris up to make sure things get better. Christmas seems almost anti-climactic in a way, until Nate destroys them all with the story about the trumpet. 

Nate’s a hard act to follow, but Sophie tells a truth, then Hardison, then Parker. Eliot’s quiet for a bit and then he exhales roughly. “My whole life since I joined the Army is made up of secrets, and I don’t know that there’s a truth in there that would mean much to any of you. You know about Moreau and you know why I do a lot of the things I do. But you just said a truth, and not something about the past, so.” He exhales again and looks each of them in the eye in turn. “I don’t plan on ever taking another life again, but I’d kill for each and every one of you without a second thought. And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I do know it’s the truth.”

They’re all quiet for a minute and then Sophie raises her glass. “Salud.”

That night after Sophie and Nate have left ,the three of them seem to make an unconscious decision to move to Eliot’s place, like the air at Hardison’s is a little too heavy still. Eliot heats up some of the chili he’d made in the crock pot and whips up a batch of honey cornbread. Parker looks dubiously at the vegetables in the chili, but decides that they’re soft enough that they don’t count. 

“Vegetables are crunchy. These aren’t crunchy.”

Afterward they sprawl on the couch, all of them touching. Leaning on each other. “This is what I didn’t want to change,” Eliot says softly 

“Like you said the other night,” Hardison murmurs softly. “It won’t.”

**

Nate comes in the next day with a client, and another as soon as that con is done. By the way she’s looking at Nate, it’s clear even Sophie is a little concerned about their pace. Hardison is starting to show the strain of it, compiling all the information while he helps work the cons. He watches Nate more than the rest of them, but he keeps out of the speculation Eliot can see in Sophie and Parker’s eyes. 

Eliot’s at the point where he’s going to ask what the hell is going on when Nate calls them all together. He expects another job, but listening to Nate talk about the plan, he realizes it’s not just another job. It’s _the_ job. It’s the one he’s been working on since even before they’d come to Portland. The plan Hardison had been helping him with. The secret doesn’t bother Eliot as much as Parker. He’s stopped expecting Nate to give them all of the truth, and he wonders if Nate realizes that they’d all still be there, even if he had.

Parker’s trust in Hardison is something she doesn’t take lightly, so it’s clearly betrayal on her face. They all recognize it, and it’s clear Nate actually anticipated it. “Don’t be mad at him. Blame me. He kept my secret. We do that sometimes. Keep each other’s secrets.”

He doesn’t look at Eliot as he says it, but Eliot knows it’s a reminder for him just the same. It’s strange to realize how long it’s really been since he’s thought about Moreau. It actually takes him by surprise, because he’d been sure that Moreau was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

WIthout thinking, he looks over at Hardison and Parker and smiles. They return it, all of their grins widening when Eliot looks down at Parker’s hand on top of Hardison’s. When he looks back at Nate, Nate’s not looking at any of them, but he can’t hide his self-satisfied smirk.

**

“So exactly how long have you been conning us?” Eliot asks easily as Nate sinks into the chair across from him in the brew pub. He still hasn’t felt the anger and hurt that he expected. He’s not sure if he’s not surprised anymore because it’s inevitable or if it’s just that it feels less like a con and more like they’ve been in training until now. All five of them.

“Not as long as you probably think.” Nate’s mouth curves into a slight smile. “You should be pissed.”

Eliot nods. “I should be pissed.”

“But you’re not.”

“But I’m not.”

Nate nods, quiet for a moment as he takes a sip of his coffee. “Why not?”

“Because you’re right. With this, we can do a lot of good. More good. Not just one or two people at a time. Help a lot of people, all at once. Get them all justice.”

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“No.”

“We need to be in crack shape for it to work. It’ll put a lot of strain on all of us.”

“Just you,” Eliot takes a draw off his beer bottle. “You’re the one who has to deal with Sterling.”

“ _Con_ Sterling.”

“Nah. Just bullshit him.”

“He’s got a damn good bullshit detector.”

“Yeah.” Eliot leans back in his chair. “You’re just going to have to bring the high-quality bullshit. And if anyone can do that...”

“It won’t all be lies.” Nate looks at Eliot, doesn’t look away. “Not if anything happens to the three of you.”

“Nothing will. I’ve got them covered.”

“I know.”

“Nate...”

“No.” Nate shakes his head and wraps his hands around his coffee mug. “You don’t need to say anything. I put a lot of pressure on you. I ask a hell of a lot of you. Not just physically, but emotionally. They’re both young. I took advantage of you for being older. Used it against you.”

“Yeah. You did.” The anger still isn’t there, isn’t even building. Eliot imagines this is as close as Nate will ever get to apologizing, so he just enjoys it for what it is. Besides, it’s fact, but it’s also the past.

“Do they know about each other?”

“What?” Eliot jerks his gaze up from his bottle and back to Nate. His whole body tenses, his hand tight around his beer and the other balled into a fist in his lap. It’s still not anger. It’s fear.

“I would assume they do. Hard to hide.” He takes another sip of his coffee, completely ignoring the tension Eliot knows has to show. He puts the mug down before he meets Eliot’s eyes. “You’re lucky. We all are. This could have been messy.”

“You know.” Eliot’s brow furrows. “You’ve known.”

“Not for sure. Not for both of them. Parker took longer to figure out.”

“Parker?” Eliot feels like she should have been the easiest to guess.

“It happened early, right? Before we all knew each other well, so it wasn’t as obvious that something had changed.”

“For how long?”

“Not as long as you probably think.” The smile comes back as if he realizes what he’s said. “I’m less worried about knowing things, knowing the truth, than I was before.” He shakes his head as if he’s clearing it to get back on the subject. “Getting the drive is going to change everything.”

“No.” Eliot smiles and hopes Nate reads his expression for the promise it is. “A lot, yeah. Most things. But not everything.”

**

It’s a long con, and the frantic pace Nate had set slows to almost nothing as they put all the pieces in place. Everything is checked and rechecked. Parker and Nate cover the timing and calculations. Hardison tracks the information and gets the rerouting equipment for the phones set up. Sophie works with her acting group on Macbeth, and Eliot secures everything else they need from cars to trucks to vans to uniforms. 

They make a damn good team.

The night before it starts, Eliot makes an elaborate meal, ignoring everyone’s jibes about nerves and performance anxiety. They’re all nervous, and the tension is palpable, but they’re all con artists, so they do a good job of hiding it. But they’re all family, so they don’t.

“We’re ready.” Nate says it softly, not actually talking to any of them. The room goes quiet, none of them quite looking at each other. Finally Sophie claps her hands. “Let the show begin.”

“I’d say break a leg,” Hardison says it with a grin, but the words come out slightly fast, betraying him a little. “But, you know. That’s my part.”

Eliot rolls his eyes and Parker frowns a little before smiling, probably when she remembers that’s all part of Nate’s story. “That’s good luck, right? That’s dumb.”

“It’s theater, Parker.” Sophie smiles in amusement. “It’s _dramatic_.”

“You can’t act with a broken leg.”

“Unless you’re in _Rear Window_.” Eliot looks up and sees them all staring at him with odd expressions. He glares at them all in turn. “What? I’ve seen movies!”

**

It goes off without a hitch. Nothing goes wrong or has to be tweaked. Even Sterling seems to play his part like he got the script. They’re all a cross between shocked and awed and probably a little too pleased with themselves. This the big score. The one they’ve spent five years building up to, but better, because it opens up a whole new world of possibilities.

“There it is, man. The holy grail. A thousand bad guys.” Hardison sounds excited and nervous. Eliot knows the feeling. He’s seen a thousand hard drives since he’s met Hardison, all of them filled with more information than he can imagine. But this one. This is like nothing else.

“A lot of revenge in there waiting on a righteous man to take a swing.”

Nate was right. They keep each other’s secrets sometimes. At least for a little while. Until it matters. Eliot can tell by Sophie’s look at him that Nate had shared the secret about the three of them and she’s happy for them. Scared, maybe. But happy. 

“Yeah. That man’s not going to be me.”

He thinks he gets it before everyone else. Before Sophie even. Thinks maybe he’s known it for a while. Nate’s leaving. This was his last gift, a proud father passing on a legacy. There’d been a finality to this whole con, pretending to be dead notwithstanding. Finality, but not an ending. That doesn’t seem possible, but Eliot believes the impossible these days with these people at his side.

“We’re out. Done.”

He’s not sure why the proposal is the thing that takes him by surprise. Nate’s determination in all of this has maybe hidden that he’s been healing. Before, it had always been a distraction to keep from looking at himself. Maybe knowing the three of them have each other, that they’re making it work, made him realize that he and Sophie were more than possible. 

Inevitable.

Like all of this.

“So,” Nate says, watching all of them. “The hard drive. Everything you need is right there.”

“You know what?” Hardison looks both overwhelmed and delighted. “ I’m gonna dump this on the dark net.” 

Parker’s little smile is almost devious. “Every crew from around the world is going to want in with us.”

“I mean, just think about it.” Hardison’s eyes are lit up. “Leverage International.”

Nate smiles. Nods. “That sounds pretty good.”

Eliot gets to his feet and looks at Nate. “You know this was your crusade.” He nods. “Now it’s our war.”

“Promise me.” Sophie’s voice breaks a little. “You’ll keep them safe.”

Eliot looks at them both. Two pieces of his soul. The two halves of his heart. “Till my dying day.”

Nate’s passing the mastermind role on to Parker, but he’s passing the family over to Eliot. “You know, Eliot, I’d say call if you need anything. But you never, never need anything.”

It’s funny, that Nate can know him so well and not at all. “Yeah. I did. And thanks to you I don’t have to search anymore.”

They stand in a group, all of them facing each other. Pieces of a puzzle that Dubenich randomly threw together without realizing what he’d done. Nate glances at Hardison. “You’re the smartest man I know. Don’t get cocky.”

Hardison smiles, emotion thick in his voice. “It’s a little late for that.”

Parker’s voice breaks, but she doesn’t. “So, you’re really going.” She laughs weakly.

“How’s that make you feel?” Sophie’s voice is soft, a mother’s touch.

“I think I’m okay with it.” Parker straightens. “Yeah. I’m okay with it.” 

Nate nods one last time. “That’s why we can go.”

They leave, fading away from the group and leaving just the three of them. But they’re not going anywhere.

**

The three of them are quiet for a long time after Nate and Sophie walk out. Away. Not out. Eliot knows that for sure. They’re a chosen family, and those bonds won’t break. Parker turns around and frowns at the screens in front of them. “This is weird.”

Hardison huffs agreement. “Kinda is.”

“They’re gone.”

“Yeah.” Eliot reaches over and rests his hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”

She thinks again before she speaks, like she had before. “Yeah. I am. Like Nate said. He knew I was okay.”

“You’ve been okay for a long time.” Hardison curves his hand over her other shoulder. “Besides. You got us.”

Leaning in toward her, Eliot drops his voice until it’s just loud enough for Hardison to hear. “I think that’s supposed to be reassuring.”

“Hey man!” Hardison takes his hand off of Parker’s shoulder and reaches around her to slap lightly at the back of Eliot’s head. He snatches it back before Eliot can retaliate. “You’re part of that ‘us’.”

Parker smiles, relaxing as Eliot and Hardison bicker. It’s an honest smile, and Eliot can’t help matching it. “Wait right here.” 

He goes into the kitchen, grabs three bottles of beer out of the fridge, then pushes it shut with his foot. Walking back into the room, he sees Parker with her head resting on Hardison’s shoulder, but her eyes are trained in his direction, looking at him.

Eliot winks at her as he walks to the table, standing in front of both of them. He sets the beers down and opens them, handing them out. He holds his up. “To Leverage International.”

“Screw that.” Hardison raises his bottle. “To us.”

Parker lifts her bottle to tap against both of theirs. “The three of us.”

**Author's Note:**

> ** Child murder - Eliot is told by Damien to murder a newborn child while in his employ. This happens "on-screen"


End file.
